

















I 














Beth’s Wonder- Winter 


BOOKS BY 

MARION AMES TAGGART 


THE SIX GIRLS SERIES 


SIX GIRLS and bob. A Story of Patty Pans 
and Green Fields. 330 pages. 

SIX GIRLS AND THE TEA ROOM. A Story. 
316 pages. 

SIX GIRLS GROWING OLDER. A Story. 
331 pages. 

SIX GIRLS AND THE SEVENTH ONE. A 
Story. 358 pages. 

BETTY GASTON, THE SEVENTH GIRL. 
A Story. 352 pages. 

SIX GIRLS AND BETTY. A Story. 320 pages. 
SIX GIRLS GROWN UP. A Story. 343 pages. 
HER DAUGHTER JEAN. A Story. 336 pages. 
BETH’S WONDER-WINTER. A Story. 352 pages. 
Price, I1.25 each net 

These volumes are attractively illustrated and 
bound uniformly. 









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Beth’s Wonder- Winter 

A Sr 0 RT 


By 

MARION AMES TAGGART 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

WILLIAM F. STECHER 



W. A. WILDE COMPANY 

CHICAGO 


BOSTON 


Ti2j$ 

iit 


Copyrighted^ /p/^, 

By W. a. Wilde Company 
All rights reserved 

Beth’s Wonder-Winter 




JAN 15 1915 

©CI.A891347 


Dedicated 

to 

Little Frances 
with great love 



CONTENTS 


I. When the Mail Came In . . .11 

II. When the Train Pulled Out . . 23 

III. The Changeling 38 

IV. The Fairy-Land Children . . . 54 

V. All Sorts of New Steps ... 69 

VI. “ The Island Day ” .... 84 

VII. Pilgrims and Strangers ... 99 

VIII. Tanagers and Bluebirds . . .116 

IX. Afoot and On Horseback . . . 136 

X. The Hospital On the Heights . . 155 

XI. Kris Kringle’s Jingles . . . 174 

XII. The Highways and Byways . . 194 

XIII. ^ ^ Holly AND Jolly Ehyme^’ . 212 

XIV. Dirk Entertains 232 

XV. Chrysalis and the Countess . . 251 

XVI. The Shrove Night Masque . . .271 

XVII. The Bide Down the Quiet Eoad . . 291 

XVIII. Florida Pasqua’’ .... 310 


XIX. The Wonder- Winter Melts IN Spring 328 


7 


\ 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


At every beat of his small hoofs she loved him 
better (Frontispiece) 

‘‘Oh! good-bye, Aunt Eebecca . . . . 

Beth ran over to the gracious lady .... 

“ Pve been waiting to show it to you . 

The prince . . . slipped a ring upon each hand 


153 
29 
49 
233 
307 


Beth’s Wonder- Winter 


CHAPTER I 

WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN 

** BEISTEAD, did you tear — how did you 

X3 tear your apron so ? ” demanded Beth’s aunt. 
She held up the accusing rent to explain the change in 
the form of her question ; it left no room for doubt that 
the apron was torn. 

Beth, small and quiet for her eleven years, answered 
unexpectedly : 

“ I didn’t tear it, Aunt Kebecca. It tore itself — kind 
of.” 

“ Kind of ! Elizabeth Frances, aprons do not tear 
themselves, and you have always been perfectly truth- 
ful — I brought you up so,” said Aunt Kebecca sternly. 

“ Yes’m,” said Beth, flushing all over her sweet lit- 
tle round face. “ I’ll tell you,” she began, forced to 
explain by her habit of obedience and her truthful up- 
bringing, “ I took it off and hung it on the low boughs 
of the tree when I climbed it — it was the apple tree, 
the old Baldwin apple tree down by the well we never 
use. And when I came down I was in a hurry, so I 
guess I took it off snatchified, because it caught and 
11 


12 


BETH^S WONDEB-WINTEE 


tore. I suppose if I’d have been slower I’d have felt 
the caught place and unhooked it, but — it just slit.” 

“ It looks as if it did ! You’ll have to mend it neatly, 
put a patch under it and fasten the frayed edges before 
you sew. What were you doing up in an apple tree, a 
great girl like you ? ” said Aunt Kebecca. 

“ Oh, dear ! must I mend it ? It’s a three-cornered 
tear ! ” sighed Beth. “ I s’pose I ought, because it’s my 
apron — though I’m sure I never wanted it.” 

“ It’s your tear, too,” observed Beth’s aunt dryly. 
“ You haven’t told me what you were doing up in the 
apple tree, nor why you had to take off your apron 
when you climbed.” 

Beth looked around the familiar room and glanced 
appealingly down at the worn carpet footstool. Then 
she looked higher, at the big rocking-chair with the 
cushion tied on its back, the cushion that always went 
flip-flap above Beth’s head when she sat in that chair, 
because she was not quite tall enough to lean against it. 
Then her eyes rose to the narrow mantelpiece above 
the resolute stove, faithful to its office, but hideous to 
look upon. She looked at the blue vase with the pink 
roses, at the pink vase with the yellow chrysanthemums 
on it which stood, a pair, yet not matching, one on each 
end of the shelf. She looked at the clock that stood in 
the middle, with Time and his scythe reclining on its 
top, at the chubby china boy with a muffler around his 
throat and a match box on his back, and at the china 
lamb, which flanked the clock on either side, but 
none of these lifelong friends gave Beth any sugges- 


WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN 


13 


tion for her explanation. There was nothing to do but 
explain without help, though she knew that Aunt 
Kebecca would not understand. 

“ I climbed the tree, Aunt Eebecca, because I was 
playing ‘ Watchman, tell us of the night,’ ” Beth said 
slowly. “I was the Watchman and Shep was the 
Traveler-o’er-yon-mountain-height — there wasn’t any- 
body else to be it — don’t you see ? ” 

“ I certainly do not see,” said Aunt Kebecca in a tone 
which implied that her not seeing was much to Beth’s 
discredit. “ That is a hymn, not a game, and what can 
it have to do with climbing trees ? ” 

“ I was the Watchman,” explained Beth patiently. 
“ I had to climb a tree, or something, to get up high 
enough to be him. Don’t you know what it says. Aunt 
Kebecca ? I saw a picture once like it ; the watchman 
is up in a high thing, like a square steeple, walking 
back and forth — I couldn’t walk back and forth in a 
tree, but it was the highest thing I had. Don’t you 
know. Aunt Kebecca ? ” 

“ I knew that hymn and many another long before I 
was your age, Beth ; I took the Sabbath school prize for 
the greatest number of hymns, as well as the greatest 
number of Bible verses committed to memory, when I 
was not quite ten,” said Aunt Kebecca with a sort of 
humble pride. “ But I fail to see why you took off 
your apron, even if you were turning that hymn into a 
game — and it never occurred to me when I was a little 
girl to do such a thing as that.” 

‘‘ You couldn’t possibly be a Watchman telling us of 


14 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


the night with a great, long blue gingham apron on, 
Aunt Rebecca ! ” said Beth earnestly, though hope- 
lessly. 

“ Then I advise you to play something else,” said 
Aunt Rebecca. “ Now you will have to mend your 
apron, and most likely it will take so much of your 
playtime to do it that you won’t play anything to- 
morrow.” 

“ Aunt Rebecca,” Beth burst out with a vehemence 
unlike her subdued little self, a vehemence that 
crimsoned her face to her straight light hair, brushed 
tightly back and braided beyond all chance of a lock 
escaping into disorder, “ Aunt Rebecca, I hate aprons ! ” 

“Do you ? ” remarked her aunt. “ Well, they’re fit- 
ting and proper for you to wear, none the less. You’ll 
find that there are a great many things that are good 
for you which you may not like.” 

“ I’ve found it out already,” sighed Beth. “ I found 
it out when I was young, but I knew it ’way down in 
my stomach last summer when I was sick and the 
doctor left me medicine. But aprons are not good for 
me ; they’re only good for my dresses, and I really 
don’t see what’s the use of dresses when they’re always 
covered up in aprons. When they come out of aprons 
they’re always outgrown, and you give ’em to Emmy 
Jackson. My Sunday dress is the only one that has the 
least, wee chance to show. I think aprons are cruel — 
that is they are if your dress is pretty. Sometimes to 
get along with it at all, I have to play that my dress is 
a princess and my apron a wicked fairy smothering her,” 


WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN 


15 


“ All good little girls wear aprons,’’ said Aunt 
Kebecca somewhat at a loss how to answer Beth’s re- 
marks, which were prompted entirely by a sincere de- 
sire to let light into her aunt’s mind, and not in the 
least by the spirit of disobedience, or a desire to rebel 
against the order of things as they were, including 
aprons. 

Oh, no. Aunt Eebecca,” said Beth eagerly. She 
took the worn footstool and sat down upon it, folding 
her hands to discuss the matter thoroughly. “ That 
isn’t a contradicting contradiction ; I just mean — well, I 
mean no ; all good little girls do not wear aprons, truly. 
I have seen pictures and read stories of little girls that 
were as good as they were lovely — you could see it in 
the pictures, and the stories always told you so — who 
never wore aprons at all. In the stories you often read 
exactly what the girls wear, and they are perfectly 
be-au-ti-ful dresses, but not a single apron. If they 
wore aprons the story would sometimes say : ‘ Beach- 
ing her arm up ’most out of joint she buttoned her 
apron as she went down-stairs.’ Or, maybe: ‘Her 
mother called her down to see the minister, and she 
pulled off her apron to be fit to be seen.’ But they 
never say anything except something about her throw- 
ing her hat off, or pulling off her coat, or putting on her 
gloves, or something nice — never a single apron in a 
story. And it’s the same in pictures. I don’t know a 
picture of a girl in an apron. And in the fashion 
books you never see a girl in an apron. They are al- 
ways all fluffy and sweet, but they don’t cover it up. 


16 


BETH’S WOKDEE-WINTEE 


And these books say they are ‘ Styles for Girls of 
Eight to Twelve.’ That means they show what girls 
wear, doesn’t it ? And not an apron ! ” Beth’s voice 
rose triumphant. “ If you could wait, Aunt Kebecca, 
I’d get some of the books Miss Tappan left when she 
sewed here last week, and show you.” 

“ Never mind,” said Aunt Eebecca. “ Those are 
stories and fashions for children who don’t live as you 
do. Their lot is not your lot.” 

“ Oh,” sighed Beth. 

It was a saddening sort of an explanation, but it 
seemed to cover the ground. She had received this 
answer, or something like it, a great many times when 
she showed signs of discontent. This did not happen 
often, for Beth was a contented little soul, naturally 
good and docile. Sometimes, but not often, she wist- 
fully wondered what it would be to have life more 
flowery, so to speak ; she wondered if mothers made 
things brighter. Aunt Kebecca — her great-aunt — had 
brought her up kindly ; Beth was grateful, but Aunt 
Kebecca had not a mind that considered the merely 
ornamental, the merely pleasant things, worth cultivat- 
ing. And Beth loved pretty things, and joyous things 
like a sweet-loving humming-bird ; she was like a little 
humming-bird, flying about in a stony place. 

“ Some people’s lot is to be like the lilies of the field, 
or the butterflies,” said Aunt Kebecca severely. 
“ They live careless, gay lives, spending a great deal, 
and never considering. You should be glad, Elizabeth, 
that your lot is different.” 


WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN 


17 


“ My lot is a lot of aprons,” said Beth. “ Do you 
think butterflies can help it, Aunt Kebecca ? ” Then, 
without waiting to make clear her not-particularly clear 
question, Beth hurried on. “ Sometimes, Aunt Kebecca, 
I like to make believe that everything happens won- 
derfully. I make believe we are rich, as rich as Greas- 
ers ” 

“Croesus, child,” corrected Aunt Kebecca with a 
short laugh. 

“ Oh,” said Beth. “ And we can have everything 
on earth we want — only I don’t know just what you 
would like. Aunt Kebecca, to have a perfectly glorious 
time. So I always just hurry over that, making be- 
lieve you can have every single thing you want, so you 
can decide that yourself, and I can go on making be- 
lieve for myself, without worrying about you. And, 
my goodness, what don’t I have ! Dresses — oceans of 
them, and I wear the splendidest ones every day, and 
don’t mind at all whether they fade, or get spotted, or 
what happens ! And I live in a palace, and hardly 
walk at aU, just order the horses, you know, and go ! 
And I travel, and I eat such lovely things that ice- 
cream isn’t worth talking about, and I smell flowers all 
the time, because I have acres of them, even in winter, 

and Oh, mercy ! It’s a beautiful make-believe, 

but there isn’t much danger of its coming true. There 
aren’t any fairies nowadays ; I guess there never were 
any in New England, and it would take fairies and 
fairies to bring it true ! Do you think it’s a lovely 
make-believe, Aunt Kebecca ? ” 


18 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


“ Ho. I think it’s very bad for you to let yourself 
covet luxury that isn’t possible for you to have, Beth,” 
said Aunt Eebecca. “ You will grow up a discontented, 
envious woman if you allow your mind to dwell on 
riches which can never be yours.” 

“ It doesn’t make me feel wicked. Aunt Eebecca,” 
said Beth slowly. “ It is like a great secret garden 
where I go to play. It’s fairy-land ; there aren’t such 
lovely things anywhere as I make believe I have, so I 
don’t think it makes me wicked. Aunt Eebecca. It’s 
just dream things. Of course I know I’ll never see 
them, so I don’t think of them that way.” 

How this is a workaday world, and Beth was quite 
right in saying that there are not fairies, at least not at 
work on many mortal lives, but this is what happened 
just as the little girl ended with a wistful, yet happy 
sigh. 

Lydia Tappan, the village dressmaker, came up the 
street, and in her hand she held a letter. She turned 
in at Aunt Eebecca’s gate and walked up the flagged 
walk, and opened the door in the simple fashion of the 
place, without the ceremony of knocking. She en- 
tered the sitting-room before Beth could get up from 
her footstool, as she hastened to do, like the polite 
child that she was, respectful to her elders. 

“ I was down to mail a letter, Eebecca,” said Miss 
Tappan, “ and I thought I’d bring up your mail. 
You’ve got a letter from Hew York ; I wasn’t aware 
you knew anybody there.” 

Aunt Eebecca took the letter, opened it and began 


WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN 


19 


to read. “ Mercy upon us ! ” she murmured, turning 
over the sheet to see the signature. Then she went 
back to the beginning and read steadily on to the end. 
Beth thought that she had never seen Aunt Eebecca 
look so excited as she did when she let the letter fall 
into her lap at last, and sat staring at the little girl. 

“ Well ? ” hinted Miss Tappan impatiently, eager to 
be let into the mystery. 

“ It’s from Beth’s mother’s brother,” said Aunt Ke- 
becca. 

“ Isn’t that an uncle ? ” cried Beth instantly sharing 
Aunt Rebecca’s excitement. 

“ Well ? ” repeated Miss Tappan. 

“ He is James Cortlandt ; he is worth millions,” 
Aunt Rebecca went on, ignoring Beth. “ He has a 
family of three children, two girls and a boy. This 
letter is from him and his wife. They want I should 
let Beth go on to them to spend the winter. They say 
they want to know their sister Nannie’s child and want 
her cousins to know her. I don’t know what to think, 
Lydia. Of course they have everything heart could 
wish, but I don’t know them, and I don’t want Beth to 
be spoiled. It’s the thin edge of the wedge, Lydia.” 

“ You couldn’t spoil Beth so easy,” said Miss Tappan. 
Neither woman seemed to remember that the small 
person they were discussing was waiting, wide-eyed 
and marveling, for what should come next. “ They 
make a good deal of Beth here, in school, everywhere, 
and she’s always the same sensible, steady, old-fashioned 
little soul. She’d take the splendor just as she takes 


20 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTER 


everything, with a pleasant, obliging smile, and be 
happy in it, just as she’s happy when folks here are good 
to her. I guess I’d risk it. Besides, you don’t seem to 
me to have the right to keep her from getting acquainted 
with her mother’s folks, if they want her. It will be a 
great advantage to her to see the world.” 

“ H’m ! That’s as it may be,” said Aunt Rebecca. 
“ There’s some sides of the world better unseen.” 

“ The world’s round, Rebecca ; it hasn’t any sides. 
To fit it you’ve got to be sort of rounded yourself. I 
always felt it was a pity we stayed so close right here 
all our lives. How’ll you get Beth there ? ” asked Miss 
Tappan. She knew Aunt Rebecca well enough to see 
that she had decided that Beth was to go. 

“ They’ll send a maid on here to fetch her, if I say 
she may go,” said Aunt Rebecca. “ Do you under- 
stand what’s happened, child ? ” she added, turning to 
Beth. “Your Uncle Cortlandt, in New York, has 
asked you on to visit him for this winter. Do you want 
to go ? ” 

Beth ran over and threw her arms around Aunt 
Rebecca. To her surprise her aunt’s arms closed around 
her plump little figure uncomfortably tight; Aunt 
Rebecca was not given to embraces. 

“ It would be lonely. Aunt Rebecca ; I’m afraid I’d 
be homesick often. But one winter isn’t long when it’s 
so near Christmas already — only seven weeks off ! And 
if I was dreadfully homesick I suppose they’d let me 
come home. Don’t you think it must be wonderful in 
New York ? Miss Bradley was there on her trip last 


WHEN THE MAIL CAME IN 


21 


summer ; she told us about it in school. They have so 
many things, railroads in the air, and railroads down 
under the ground, and ferry-boats, and big churches, 
and parks of wild animals, and statues, and fishes in 
places where they keep them — all kinds, and buildings 
so high you get a crick in your neck looking up at them. 
Miss Bradley said we were to remember it was next 
biggest to London. Janie and I were crazy to go when 
Miss Bradley told our class about it. I think, even if I 
was a little homesick, I’d just love to go, Aunt Kebecca, 
if you don’t mind,” said truthful Beth. 

“ Well, I suppose you have to go ; I don’t suppose 
what I want has anything to do with it, nor homesick- 
ness either,” said Aunt Kebecca crisply. “ I shall write 
and tell them to come after you on — let me see ! 
— say the twentieth ; that will be in about ten days 
from the time they get my letter. Your aunt says she 
prefers to buy your winter clothes there ; I suppose she 
thinks you wouldn’t be fitted out here the way her chil- 
dren are ; neither would you. I guess you’ll be one of 
those children you were talking about, who don’t wear 
aprons, this winter, Beth,” Aunt Kebecca ended with a 
laugh that did not sound amused. 

“ I’ll wear them if you want me to just the same as 
if I was home ! ” cried Beth catching the note of regret 
in her great-aunt’s voice and generously responding to 
it. Then the magnificence of what had happened 
rushed over the little girl, almost overwhelming her. 
“ Oh, it has come true, it has come true ! And I 
thought it never could ! ” she cried. “ It will be my 


22 


BETH'S WONDEE- WINTER 


make-beUeve land, and I’ll be in it, alive, really me, just 
Beth Bristead ! Oh, I’ll write you, Aunt Rebecca, I 
truly will, though I de-spise writing, so you sha’n’t miss 
me ! And I’ll come back so good you will be thankful, 
and I’ll remember everything you ever told me to do, 
and I won’t forget a single thing I see, so I’ll be better 
than newspapers next summer. Oh, Aunt Rebecca, to 
think such a little while ago when I was telling you 
about it we never thought it could come true, and now 
it has, it has ! May I go right away and tell Janie Little 
that I’m going ? What will she say ! What will all 
the girls say ! Oh, Aunt Rebecca, I think I’ll never 
live to get to New York, I’m so glad. It will be a 
wonder- winter ! ” 

Beth flew off to get her hat. Aunt Rebecca and Miss 
Tappan heard the front door slam and looked out of the 
window. They saw Beth wildly struggling into her 
jacket as she tore off down the street to find her best 
beloved playmate and tell her the great good fortune 
that had befallen her. They knew that the child trod 
upon air, that it seemed to her that fairies were speed- 
ing her flying feet, showering upon her gifts beyond 
belief. They were glad in her joy, but Aunt Rebecca 
knew that she would sorely miss her little Beth. 


CHAPTEE II 


WHEN THE TRAIN PULLED OUT 

B eth sat by the window in spotless order. Her 
hands were clasped in her lap ; she was so still 
that her favorite doll, sitting stiffly opposite to her, 
seemed, by contrast, to be romping. But the reddened 
tips of the clasped fingers betrayed the severe pressure 
that held them so motionless, and the pallor of the 
usually rosy round face, and the dilated blackness of 
the blue eyes told the effort which kept the little girl 
so quiet at her post. Beth was watching for the arrival 
of her Aunt Alida Cortlandt’s maid, who was to carry 
her off to the crowded metropolis. Beth had never 
seen a maid — she had seen “ girls,” “ help,” even “ serv- 
ants,” but a maid ! Somehow she had gathered from 
her beloved story-books vague ideas of maids as exalted 
persons who beautifully served beautiful princesses, or 
noble ladies. The coming of one. of these to the brown 
village house which had been Aunt Eebecca’s home 
for more than fifty years, and Beth’s home for a fifth of 
that time was the beginning of the wonderful experi- 
ences into which the maid would lead the little girl. 

Outside in the hall stood Beth’s small trunk, locked 
and strapped, and plainly tagged in Aunt Kebecca’s 
clear handwriting. The knowledge that it was there 
made it harder for Beth to watch quietly out of the 
23 


24 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


window. Aunt Kebecca had rebelled against Mrs. 
Cortlandt’s suggestion that Beth should be fitted out 
with winter clothing in !New York. Aunt Eebecca 
“ guessed that her nephew’s daughter wasn’t going to 
visit her mother’s folks as if she hadn’t had a friend in 
the world till they remembered to ask her ! ” She had 
prepared what seemed to Beth a lavish wardrobe, and 
had packed it in the little trunk that Beth had always 
admired as it stood in the attic under the eaves. Miss 
Tappan had made the navy blue coat and gown to 
match which Beth wore then, ready to travel in. She 
liked it so much that she was glad that it had three 
tucks in the skirt, so that if New York air made her 
grow fast the skirt could be let down three tucks’ 
length, and she could wear her new suit all winter. 
It had a hat to match ; a round navy blue felt, trimmed 
with navy blue ribbon that was not precisely the same 
shade as the hat, but was the nearest to it of all the 
ribbons Miss Ludd, the milliner, had. It also had a 
bunch of blue quills that caused Beth delightful anx- 
iety, because of their tendency to split at their tips 
when she put her hat into its box. 

A public carriage drove up the street and stopped at 
the Bristead door. Beth drew a quick, gasping, in- 
Ward breath. 

“ Aunt Eebecca,” she said low, but with an intensity 
that made her voice perfectly audible in the next room 
where her great-aunt was cutting out work for the sew- 
ing society, “ Aunt Eebecca, she has come ! Oh, is that 
a maid ? ” she added. 


WHEN THE TEAIN PULLED OUT 


25 


For Beth saw a tall person descend from the carriage, 
pay the driver and turn toward the house. She was 
clad in taffeta so shining that she looked like a perfectly 
new, very good quality of stove-pipe; the gown fell 
around her in such un wrinkled stiffness that it increased 
the stove-pipe likeness. Her hair was black, so smooth 
and solid in effect that it carried out the suggestion of 
her being made of sheet iron. She moved with great 
dignity, and looked the brown house up and down with 
an air so superior that Beth felt a sudden fear of her. 
She could not have told what she had expected a lady’s 
maid to be like, but certainly not like this alarming 
person. 

Ella Lowndes, who was Aunt Kebecca’s “help,” 
opened the door. 

“ Come in,” Beth heard her say. “ Miss Bristead’s in, 
yes, and the little girl is all ready to start away with 
you.” 

“ You’d better lay off your things,” Beth heard Aunt 
Kebecca saying. “ I’ll see that you have luncheon right 
away. This is Elizabeth Bristead, Mr. Cortlandt’s niece, 
who is going back with you,” she added as Beth came 
shyly forth from her observation post by the window. 

“ How do you do. Miss Elizabeth ? ” said the maid 
with an unexpected touch of Irish in her speech. Beth 
had never known any one with that accent who was 
not jolly, and the maid looked more serious — and older 
— at close range than when she had come up the walk. 
“ No, Miss Bristead, thank you, I don’t care about any 
luncheon,” she went on. “ I came right out here from 


26 


BETH’S WOl^DER-WIOTEE 


Boston — I was over night there — and if you don’t mind 
there’s a train back at half-past eleven I’d like to be 
takin’. Then we’d catch the mid-afternoon l^ew York 
express to New York, and be gettin’ there early in the 
evenin’. I don’t want to be hurryin’ you, but if Miss 
Elizabeth is really ready — Mrs. Cortlandt asked me 
to make the best time I could ; she’ll be missin’ me 
if I’m gone a second night from her. They was goin’ 
to send up the motor car for me to bring the young 
lady on in it, but Mr. Cortlandt ran down to Lakewood 
to a speed thrial his club has to-day. He took the small 
car, but he wouldn’t let any shoffer but Mr. Leon 
Charette run it for ’um, and there’s no other he would 
thrust to bring the big car up here after the little girl, 
so I took the train.” 

Aunt Rebecca almost gasped, Beth actually gasped ; 
Aunt Rebecca because this torrent of words over- 
whelmed her; Beth because she had no idea what 
these words were all about. If the maid had said 
“ chaulfeur ” instead of “ shoffer ” Beth would still have 
been in the dark as to her unknown uncle’s reasons for 
letting his niece come to him by train. 

“ Beth’s trunk is all ready ; there isn’t a thing to do 
but get her coat and hat on,” said Aunt Rebecca. “ It 
seems ridiculous to come all the way from New York 
and turn right around without so much as a cup of tea, 
but if you’re in such a hurry — I suppose Shakespeare 
knew when he said what had to be done might as well 
be done quickly. Beth, get your things.” 

“Now, Aunt Rebecca?” cried Beth. But she de- 


WHEN THE TEAIN PtlLLED OUT 


2 ? 


parted on her errand instantly, and returned with her 
hat on backward above a face purple from all sorts of 
emotions which there was no time to sort out, unroll- 
ing her cashmere gloves as she came. 

“ You don’t seem to have looked in the glass,” com- 
mented Aunt Rebecca as she took off the excited child’s 
hat and righted it. “ Here, I’ll hold your coat ; pull 
your sleeves down first.” She lifted Beth’s coat over 
her shoulders with such vigor that Beth herself was 
raised on her tiptoes. “ There’ll have to be somebody , 
get her trunk down to the depot so’s it’ll go on the 
train with you,” said Aunt Rebecca. “ Oh, you kept 
the carriage ! ” she added, glancing out of the window. 
“ Then I don’t see but that you’re ready to go on your 
travels, Beth.” 

“ Mrs. Cortlandt said I was to be sure and tell you 
not to send anything whatever for the child to wear, 
Miss Bristead,” said the maid rising. 

“ I’ve provided for my grandniece all her life so far,” 
said Aunt Rebecca decidedly, “and when she starts 
she’ll go as I send her, which is properly clad and made 
comfortable. When she’s in Mrs. Cortlandt’s house 
she’ll wear exactly what that lady considers proper, 
same’s she wore here what I considered proper, but 
she’s going from home with all a well brought up little 
girl requires. I shall do my part, and Miss Beth’s 
trunk goes with Miss Beth.” 

Beth marveled at Aunt Rebecca’s courage, and at 
her knowledge of the way to address a maid ; she quite 
glowed with pride in her. 


28 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTEE 


The maid drew herself up stiffly, but she said kindly : 
“ I'm sure I’ve no objections, madam, to whatever you 
like to send ; it’s only the matter of a baggage check 
in me pocketbook to me, and it’s natural the way you 
feel.” 

She considerately preceded Beth out of the room, her 
silken skirts rustling more than any skirts of Beth’s 
acquaintance as she went. But Aunt Rebecca had no 
farewell to take privately. 

“Be a good child,” she said, “and remember all 
you’ve been taught. Have a good time, but see to it 
that it is a good time — don’t you be naughty. And no 
matter where you go, nor what you see, don’t you lose 
hold of your good Bristead principles. Speak the truth, 
be obedient, first to what you know is right, and sec- 
ondly to those who are placed over you, and mind your 
manners. Then in New York, or up here among the 
Massachusetts hills, or wherever you find yourself, 
you’ll find you’re fit to be there, and you’ll always 
come out right whatever befalls you. Good-bye.” 

She kissed Beth sincerely, but with no more display 
of emotion than she would have shown on ordinary 
occasions, if on ordinary occasions Aunt Rebecca ever 
kissed. 

Beth threw her arms around Aunt Rebecca and 
kissed her again and again with the full consciousness 
that this was a crisis, an era in her life, upon which no 
calm embrace would be suitable. 

“ I’ll be as good, as good as goodness, Aunt Rebecca ! 
And I’ll be dreadfully homesick and lonely without 



! Good-bye, Aunt Rebecca. ’ 





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WHEN THE TEAIK PULLED OUT 


29 


you, but I know I shall have a beautiful time. Please 
don’t let Tabby forget me, and if she should have an 
all yellow kitten while I’m gone, you will keep it for 
me, won’t you ? Oh, good-bye. Aunt Kebecca,” Beth 
cried with a last frantic hug and desperate kiss. Then 
she ran out of the door laughing and crying, darted 
back to bid Ella Lowndes good-bye, finally rushed 
down the walk and into the station carriage. The 
driver leaned over and shut the door, turned his horse, 
guiding him with the reins laid over Beth’s trunk on 
end beside him, and drove down the street. 

Beth watched the familiar buildings drop back of 
her with a puzzled sense of being in a dream. Except 
for a trip to Boston for a day she had never been away 
from the world these buildings represented ; the Centre 
Church, the small shops, the new hall, the brick school- 
house, the library. New York would certainly be dif- 
ferent from this ; Boston was different, and Beth knew to 
a figure how much smaller than New York Boston was. 

The maid did not talk ; Beth glanced at her un- 
easily. She had no idea how to address her, and she 
looked capable of resenting the wrong form of address. 
Beth decided to wait for her to begin the conversation ; 
she was so unexpectedly elderly that that was surely 
her right. 

The maid bought Beth’s ticket, checked her trunk 
for Boston, and that left little time to spare before the 
train came. Beth mounted the steps with rapidly 
beating heart and flatteringly took the inside seat by 
the window which the maid indicated. 


30 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“ You’ve been to Boston, it’s likely, Miss Elizabeth ? ” 
said the maid at last to Beth’s relief. 

' “Yes, several times,” said Beth. “But I’ve never 
traveled anywhere else. Have you traveled much ? ” 

“ I came across the ocean when I wasn’t much above 
your age. I’ve traveled pretty much all over America 
with different ladies, and I’ve been much about Europe, 
Miss Elizabeth,” said the maid indifferently. 

“ Oh, my ! Have you ? ” cried Beth. “ I’m not Miss 
Elizabeth, please. Aunt Rebecca doesn’t call me Eliza- 
beth unless she’s displeased with me, and nobody else 
ever does. I’m Beth.” 

“ You’ll have to be called Miss Beth then, for it’s not 
suitable for your uncle’s servants to call you by your 
name, so free,” said the maid. 

“ Isn’t it ? ” asked Beth. “ Of course I don’t know 
as well as you do. Ella always calls me Beth, but she’s 
just Ella. What ought I to call you, please ? ” 

“ Anna Mary. I was a twin, and they named me 
twin sister the same name, only the other way about : 
she was Mary Anna,” replied the maid. 

“ How interesting ! ” cried Beth. “ It’s not a long 
ride to Boston, is it ? Not half as long as it sounds 
when you say you’re going there.” 

“ And a good thing it isn’t, for there’s no Pullman 
car on this train, and it’s tiresome,” returned Anna 
Mary. 

Beth subsided. She did not know what a Pullman 
car was ; it oppressed her to know that Anna Mary 
was finding this delightful trip tiresome. 


WHEN THE TEAIN PULLED OUT 


31 


They arrived in Boston early. Anna Mary took 
Beth for a light lunch in the station restaurant, ex- 
plaining that they would have a good dinner on the 
train to New York. But the lightness of Beth’s lunch 
proved weighted by her healthy appetite ; she ate an 
eibellent lunch, though Anna Mary condemned every- 
thing they had, scornfully. 

They crossed the city to the other station from which 
they were to start for New York. Anna Mary bought 
Beth’s ticket and two seats in the Pullman car, and 
looked after Beth’s trunk competently. As soon as the 
express for New York was made up Beth and Anna 
Mary boarded it. Beth followed her tall guide through 
the vestibule entrance to a car like nothing in her pre- 
vious limited experience of travel. All inlaid in vari- 
ous beautiful woods was this car, fitted with heavy 
shades, hung with curtains at its wide plate glass win- 
dows. It was carpeted in soundless velvet carpeting 
and furnished with great swinging chairs, upholstered 
in green velvet. Yelvet cushions waited tired travelers’ 
feet before willow chairs, velvet cushioned also, which 
sat at the ends of this car, and long, narrow mirrors 
between the windows gave back the smiles in a pair of 
happy eyes to Beth as she followed the colored porter 
down the aisle. He preceded them, carrying Anna 
Mary’s coat which she had promptly handed him, and 
led the way to the seats whose numbers she gave him, 
recorded on the checks which she had purchased in the 
station. Anna Mary had increased in awfulness since 
she had stepped on the lowest step of the car. The 


32 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTER 


porter eagerly established her in her chair, hung up 
her coat, and seemed relieved that she expressed her- 
self satisfied with the location of her chairs. 

Beth climbed into her own great chair ; it was only 
too comfortable ; she was almost lost in its hollow, 
and its depth of seat prevented her feet from reaching 
the floor. But the observant porter quickly brought 
a velvet cushion for both Anna Mary and Beth, and 
the little girl settled back into luxury that showed her 
why Anna Mary had called the car in which they had 
begun their journey “ tiresome." 

Anna Mary bought three magazines for Beth and a 
bunch of violets, and finally a box of chocolates from a 
succession of boys that passed through the car. Beth 
could not help knowing that Anna Mary spent more 
than two dollars on these gifts. It was such a great 
sum to expend so recklessly on her small self that Beth 
was almost as much troubled as pleased by such ex- 
travagance. She conveyed her feeling to Anna Mary. 
The maid laughed. 

“ All ladies have such thrifles in travelin’. Miss Beth. 
You’ll have to get used to more than that, my dear," 
she said. 

Beth tasted the chocolates thoughtfully. It was true, 
then, the unlikely things she had read in stories, of girls 
who thought no more of two pound boxes of candy, 
nor thought as much of them, as Beth thought of buy- 
ing a quarter of a pound of cough drops in a white, 
scalloped edged bag at Armstrong’s, the druggist’s, at 
home ! 


WHEN THE TEAIN PULLED OUT 


33 


The train proved to be a fast one ; Beth had never 
ridden so fast. They whirled past landscapes that were 
shaken down into a confusing whole made up of trees, 
fences, hills, river, ponds and towns on a grayish-yel- 
low November background, much as Mr. Armstrong 
shook together the ingredients of a prescription in a 
bottle. 

Beth kept swinging around in her chair at first to 
talk to Anna Mary, but Anna Mary was plainly not in- 
clined to conversation. She fell asleep as soon as Beth 
discovered this fact, and let her alone ; the little girl 
happily resigned herself to looking out of the window, 
to turning the pages of her magazines, to watching the 
other passengers, and at last to enjoying the wonder of 
the great thought that she, Beth Bristead, was rushing 
toward New York at a fearful, yet safe speed, in such 
a beautiful car that it hardly seemed possible the great 
city held anything finer. 

It was growing dusk when Anna Mary awoke with 
a start. She smiled at Beth with great kindness and 
approval. “ Well, you are a good child, whatever else 
you may be ! ” she said. “ I think I lost meself a few 
minyutes. Now, we’re goin’ to have our dinner. It’s 
early, but we’ll take our time at it, and be nicely back 
here for a while before we get into town.” 

She arose and Beth followed her. “ Leave your hat 
aud coat here, Miss Beth ; there’ll nobody touch ’em,” 
Anna Mary said, and Beth rather anxiously obeyed. 

Anna Mary led the way from that car to the next 
one. It was entered by a passage that turned sharply 


34 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


around a corner, shutting off the second car from first 
sight. When they came around this corner Beth ex- 
claimed rapturously. There was a brilliantly lighted 
dining-room awaiting them, more brilliant and gay than 
any Beth had ever seen. Small tables, snowy white as 
to covers, glittering with clear glass and even with 
flowers on them, stood before each window. Colored 
waiters in white linen, matching their gleaming teeth, 
but contrasting strikingly with their complexions, stood 
about, or flew around, napkins on arm, trays in hand, 
serving those already seated at the tables, waiting for 
others who were to come — among them Anna Mary 
and delighted Beth. 

“ I hope you are hungry. Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary 
taking off her gloves as she and Beth took the chairs 
an eager waiter had pulled back for them. 

“ I really am,” said Beth surprised to find it true. 
“ I don’t see how I can be, so soon, and I’ve been eat- 
ing chocolates, too, but I really am.” 

“ Will you pick out what you want, or will I order 
for you ? ” suggested Anna Mary. 

“ Oh, you, please,” cried Beth, and Anna Mary or- 
dered. She proved to be an excellent judge of a good 
dinner. Beth wondered if she thought it was Thanks- 
giving that day, instead of next week. Oysters, soup, 
lobster, broiled chicken, several unfamiliar but delicious 
vegetables, salad — which Beth did not like — ice-cream 
and fancy cakes, which Beth decidedly did like — and a 
second order of it, at that! — coffee for Anna Mary, 
weak tea for Beth, to whom it was a dissipation. All 


WHEN THE TRAIN PULLED OUT 


35 


this Anna Mary ordered as if it was a matter of course, 
and partook of critically. 

Beth leaned back in her chair at last and sighed, then 
laughed. 

“ I was thinking that it seemed as if that sigh could 
hardly get out, I had eaten such a big, such a very big 
dinner,” she explained. “ Anna Mary, I never had such 
a wonderful dinner ! I think Cinderella couldn’t have 
had a better one if you had been the fairy godmother.” 

This was not what Beth meant to say, but Anna 
Mary understood her meaning. “You will soon see 
real dinners,” she said, implying that this was “ about 
like a box of crackers,” thought Beth, stunned by the 
prospect before her, and watching Anna Mary as she 
unrolled a large bill from the fat wad in her pocket- 
book and handed it to the waiter. She watched with 
greater awe as the waiter offered Anna Mary her change 
on a small silver tray and Anna Mary gathered it up, 
leaving half a dollar, a whole shining fifty cent piece, 
on the tray for the waiter to take. This he did with a 
bow of profound respect. 

“ Anna Mary,” began Beth after they had returned 
to their chairs in the drawing-room car, “ is it really 
like this, only more than this, in New York ? ” 

“It’s a great town. Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary. 
“There’s folks in it, like your uncle, who live like 
princes of the blood, going from glory to glory. 
And there’s many more comfortable by hard workin’, 
and there’s more than there should be livin’ not much 
better than in ash barrels, like the poor homeless cats 


36 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


you do be seein’ after dark. But for the most part, 
yes ; it’s like this, only more so. And you might be 
puttin’ on your hat now, Miss Beth, for we’re gettin’ 
in.” 

The train slowed up, stopped. Anna Mary took 
Beth’s hand and led her, bewildered, not sure whether 
she were awake or dreaming, down a long, cold con- 
crete avenue between tracks, through hurrying crowds, 
under electric lights, into a screaming, rushing, roaring 
street of cabmen, travelers, trolleys. This was New 
York! 

Anna Mary put Beth into an electric cab, gave an ad- 
dress, and stepped in herself. The doors that shut them 
in like a sort of folding lid closed upon them and the 
cab started. Never before had Beth ridden in a vehicle 
running without a track, without visible power to pro- 
pel it. She held her breath. 

The cab skidded along through the crowded cross 
street, turned a corner sharply, swung into a broad 
avenue alive with other electric cabs, horse-drawn cabs, 
fine carriages, two-story green stages with winding 
stairs up their backs, but with no horses to draw them ; 
past streams of people going both ways, bright-faced 
girls, men in queer high hats that looked like mourning 
to Beth, with swinging coats that showed shining white 
linen, or black silk mufflers. She caught glimpses of 
lovely ladies in carriages, hatless, with flowers or 
feathers in their hair, gleaming with jewels as their 
beautiful cloaks parted, gowned in silks of the most ex- 
quisite tints. She saw others, walking, with lace 


WHEN THE TEAIN PULLED OUT 


37 


mantillas over their hair, like the Spanish ladies in her 
geography, and with long coats that showed only 
beautiful ruffles as their wearers held up skirts and hur- 
ried to the theatre. She passed tall houses, some of 
them dark and solemn, some all alight, with pictures, 
great chairs, all sorts of brilliance, revealed through 
their lace-draped windows. 

“ Oh, am I really, really here ? Am I seeing it, 
truly, Anna Mary ? ” gasped Beth. 

Anna Mary caught her meaning. “ You’re awake, 
Miss Beth ; it’s New York fast enough,” she said with 
the pride of an adopted citizen in the vast, splendid city. 


CHAPTEK III 


THE CHANGELING 


HE cab stopped before a tall house, dressed in 



brown from head to foot. “ It looks like Aunt 


Kebecca when she has on her brown mohair,” thought 
Beth, and the humorous resemblance cheered away a 
slight feeling of fear that crept over the little girl as 
she realized that she had come to stay long in this big 
brown stone house, so unlike the brown house in the 
village from which she had come. 

The cab doors parted and swung back without a 
touch. It was magic, Beth thought, till she remem- 
bered the driver somewhere up aloft behind her. 

Anna Mary delayed long enough to pay this lofty 
personage, who touched his tall hat in acknowledgment 
of his fee ; Beth watched it all with wide eyes as she 
waited on the pavement. 

“ How,” said Anna Mary, and Beth followed her up 
the steps. 

A smiling young woman in a cap opened the door. 
“ Oh, Anna Mary ! ” she said, but her eyes were on Beth 
in her home-made blue garments. 

“ Where’s Mrs. Hodgman ? ” asked Anna Mary re- 
senting this maid’s unspoken criticism of Beth’s appear- 
ance. Anna Mary had a personal pride in everything 


38 


THE CHANGELING 


39 


and everybody belonging to the family which she 
served. 

“ Mrs. Hodgman is in her room down-stairs,” said the 
maid. Just then a serious looking woman came up 
from below, and Anna Mary went toward her. 

“ Mrs. Hodgman, this is Mr. Cortlandt’s niece. Miss 
Elizabeth Bristead, but she is called Miss Beth. I’ve 
this moment come back from fetchin’ her. Miss Beth, 
this is Mrs. Hodgman who looks after your aunt’s house- 
keepin’ for her,” said Anna Mary. 

Puzzled Beth held out her hand. ‘‘ I’m very well, 
thank you,” she said, before Mrs. Hodgman had a 
chance to ask after her health. 

The housekeeper smiled. “ I’m glad to hear it, my 
dear. You certainly look so,” she said. “ Mrs. Cort- 
landt and Mr. Cortlandt are out, Anna Mary. Mrs. 
Cortlandt thought that you would come, but she wasn’t 
sure, because you forgot to telegraph. She left word 
that she should not be in before one, if she came as 
early as that, and if the little niece came that we were 
to make her comfortable. She said that you could stay 
with Miss Beth until she came home, for fear she might 
be lonely. She said you need do nothing in her room 
till she came, but stay up-stairs to make the child 
happy.” 

‘‘ I suppose her room is ready ? ” asked Anna Mary. 
‘‘ I think she had better not meet her cousins to-night. 
Miss Beth, come and have supper, and then we’ll go up- 
stairs.” 

“ I don’t think I’m hungry,” said Beth cautiously. 


40 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


remembering how her appetite on the train had sur- 
prised her. 

But Anna Mary did not wait for her to make sure ; 
she led the way down the hall. “ She’d better have 
supper in the breakfast room, don’t you think, Mrs. 
Hodgman ? It’s more cozy,” she suggested. 

Anna Mary pulled aside a heavy portiere and touched 
a button. The light that leaped into the flower-shaped 
bulbs around the room revealed rose-colored silken 
covered walls, high wainscoting of a wood as flne and 
glossy as the silk above it, beautiful gold and rose 
window draperies, and furniture so fine that even Beth 
felt its perfection. She caught her breath. 

“ Is it a room, a room to use ? ” she cried. 

“ It’s the breakfast room. Miss Beth,” said the house- 
keeper. “ It is said to be one of the most beautiful 
rooms of its kind in New York. I’ll see that a supper 
is sent up, Anna Mary. Biggs is out to-night, so Frieda 
will serve it.” 

She left the room and Anna Mary removed Beth’s 
coat ; then they both waited. It did not seem long to 
Beth before another maid came and began to lay a place 
at the table ; she was so much interested in looking at 
the sparkling glass, the massive silver on a highboy at 
one end of the room, at the pictures, the carvings, all 
the marvels surrounding her, that she would willingly 
have waited far longer for the coming of supper. But 
now the deft maid silently spread a drawn- work cloth 
at one end of the table, set it with china so frail, so 
beautiful that Beth was not quite sure whether it was 


THE CHANGELING 


41 


china or confections. Then she brought steaming 
chocolate in a pot that matched the tall cup which had 
especially fascinated Beth, cold chicken in a bed of 
cresses, the thinnest bread that Beth had ever seen, 
cakes that made all else of no consequence, and two or 
three fruits preserved in their own syrupy juices. 

“ Supper is served for your young lady, Anna Mary,” 
said the maid speaking low. 

Anna Mary pulled back Beth’s heavy chair and the 
wondering child took her place. But this time she 
could hardly eat, delicious as everything was. The 
breakfast room had so filled her that food had no place 
after it. 

“ You’re not makin’ out much. Miss Beth, but maybe 
it’s as well. It’s likely late for the likes of you to be 
suppin’,” said Anna Mary kindly. 

‘‘ I go to bed at half-past eight at home,” said Beth, 
glancing at the little sparkling clock that struck once 
to say that it was one-quarter after nine. 

“ Well then, we’ll have to hurry to catch up with the 
time that’s behind us,” said Anna Mary, and took Beth’s 
hand to get her away from a room that she saw had 
fascinated her. 

She led her to an elevator in the hall. Mrs. Hodg- 
man again met them at its door. “ The little girl has 
been given the blue willow room on the third floor, 
Anna Mary,” she said. ‘-Good-night, my dear; I 
hope you will rest well and waken very happy in these 
new surroundings.” 

“Thank you,” said Beth. “I hope you will, too,” 


42 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


She was so bewildered at finding an elevator waiting 
for her in a private house that she did not know what 
she said ; hitherto elevators had meant to her stores or 
hotels in Boston. This one was padded and cushioned in 
golden browns ; it had mirrors all around its sides above 
its padded wainscoting. Beth felt as if she were being 
put into a jewel box, for the elevator was small. “ I 
know exactly how my garnet ring felt when it came,” 
she said. Fortunately Anna Mary 'did not hear; she 
would have thought Beth’s journey had tired her into 
delirium. 

The boy in a mulberry uniform who ran the elevator 
stopped it almost as soon as he had started it. 

“ This way,” said Anna Mary, and took Beth up the 
hall to a door which she opened. The room it revealed 
was lighted, the bedclothing was turned back, a fire 
burned on the hearth. 

Beth stood still uttering a faint : “ Oh ! ” 

The room was not large, but it was square. Its 
woodwork was snowy white, its fioor covered with a 
blue velvet carpet so thick and soft, so beautiful in 
shade that Beth dared not move across it. A white 
dresser stood between a cluster of blue flower lights ; a 
white dressing table stood opposite between another 
such group of lights. Willow chairs, blue cushioned, 
or all snowy white, stood around; a teakwood table 
and a teakwood bookcase gave the tone needed to 
bring out the delicate beauty of this room, and the 
bedstead, a four poster with a blue tester, was made of 
willow, like the chairs, and covered with a white silk 


THE CHANGELING 


43 


counterpane, embroidered with blue violets strewn all 
over its surface. Blue velour curtains over snowy lace 
ones shut off the light from the two windows and made 
a background for the whole. 

“It isn’t my room, Anna Mary?” gasped Beth. 
Anna Mary had fearlessly crossed the delicate carpet 
and had opened a door and hung Beth’s coat — oh, if 
Miss Tappan could have dreamed of this room when 
she made that coat ! — in what Beth supposed was the 
closet, and turned to her to get her hat. 

“ Whose else ? ” demanded Anna Mary. “ In here’s 
your dressin’ room and wardrobes. Miss Beth. There’s 
runnin’ water here; you’ll likely share your cousins’ 
bathroom ; I’ll show you it.” She led the way through 
the dressing room and through a small square entry 
with four doors opening on it, Beth’s door and three 
others. 

“ Those doors lead to your two young girl cousins’ 
rooms. Miss Natalie and Miss Alys’s apartments, and 
this is the bathroom which they use, and you will use 
it, or they wouldn’t have given you the room you have 
— it’s a family room, do you see ? Guests never are 
put in this wing of the house, not outside guests,” ex- 
plained Anna Mary. 

“ Yes,” said Beth, but she did not see in the least. 
All that she saw was a room that convinced her the 
whole thing was a fairy story into which she had got 
by some means, much as Alice fell into Wonderland, 
for no mere bathroom could be like this ! The ceiling 
was thick, cloudy glass ; through it a clear, soft light, 


44 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


like moonlight, flooded the room. The floor was white 
marble ; at one point it began to slant down till it dis- 
appeared in a lake of water that gently rose up in vary- 
ing depths to meet it. Up the white walls climbed 
vines abloom with pale tea roses ; Beth had to touch 
them to be sure that they were painted. Over beyond 
the lake, which was the beautiful substitute for the tubs 
that Beth had seen, were water-lilies floating on a little 
pond separate from the lake — and these were real — 
they were growing there ; Beth touched them and they 
bent under her finger and gave out their exquisite 
perfume. 

“ Mr. Cortlandt designed this swimmin’ tank himself. 
Miss Beth. It is the most beautiful private bathroom 
in town, they say,” said Anna Mary. “ Your cousin. 
Master Dirk, has a much larger swimmin’ pool, but 
then his is the one off the gymnasium, and it’s used for 
that too ; the young ladies’ bath is for them alone — 
only now you will use it.” 

“ How shall I ever, ever tell Aunt Eebecca so she’ll 
understand ? I don’t understand myself,” said Beth 
going back to her blue room in the wake of Anna 
Mary in a sort of trance. “ My cousins are not really 
young ladies, are they ? ” she asked arousing to what 
Anna Mary had said. 

“ Miss Natalie is fifteen years old. Miss Alys is some- 
thing above twelve, and Master Dirk is nearly eleven,” 
said Anna Mary. “ Your trunk hasn’t come. Miss 
Beth — those baggage transfer men, you can’t be 
dependin’ on them ! I’ll borrow a night-dress of Miss 


THE CHANGELING 


45 


Alys’s from her maid — she’s not much bigger than you, 
though she is older.” 

Anna Mary disappeared. When she came back Beth 
had folded her gown over the back of a chair, and was 
brushing her hair with gingerly touches, born of her 
misgiving in using the wrought silver backed brush 
which she had found on her dressing table. 

“ Oh, that will never do. Miss Beth ! ” cried Anna 
Mary, and Beth flushed deeply as she said : 

“I was afraid it wouldn’t, Anna Mary, but there 
wasn’t any other brush here. Mine will come to- 
morrow, won’t it ? ” She hastily replaced the elaborate 
brush on the table. 

“ It’s not the brush I meant,” said Anna Mary ap- 
propriating it. “ But you must wait to have your hair 
brushed. I’ll do it to-night, but after this there’ll be 
some one to wait on you — I don’t know whether it will 
be Celie, Miss Natalie and Miss Alys’s maid, or another 
one. But it’s not proper for you to dress your own 
hair. Sit there. Miss Beth, in that low chair before the 
dressin’ table while I brush your hair. Why, it’s very 
nice hair. Miss Beth ! ” Anna Mary added, as Beth 
obeyed her and she began to brush out its crinkled 
masses. ‘‘Now to think such flne hair should be 
braided till a body would no more notice it than she 
would a manilla rope ; it’s a cryin’ shame, so it is ! 
We’ll have your hair washed till it’s as fluify as corn 
silk and as bright, and we’ll dress it suitable. Miss Beth, 
and you’ll see ! You must have a dressin’ slip of some 
sort to put on when your maid’s brushin’ — but Mrs. 


46 


BETH’S WONDEE-WmTER 


Cortlandt will look after that. Now, Miss Beth, here’s 
the night-dress I borrowed from Miss Alys for you. 
Will I help you, or will you do for yourself from this 
on ? ” 

“ I always dress and undress myself, Anna Mary,” 
said Beth guessing at her meaning. “ Oh, Anna Mary, 
you’ve brought something instead of a night-dress ! ” 

She checked herself from saying “ a party dress,” but 
that was what she thought Anna Mary lifted from the • 
bed and shook out, of its folds — it was a gown of soft 
china silk, trimmed with delicate narrow lace and tied 
with long white ribbons. 

“ This is a night-dress. Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary 
glancing with understanding at Beth’s plain little white 
underwaist, and red and gray striped flannel petticoat. 
Beth caught the look and took the night-dress without 
another word. When she had put it on and had tied 
its ribbons and settled the lace around her tanned little 
hands she knelt beside the wonderful willow bed, and 
buried her face in the silken down comforter which had 
been revealed when Anna Mary folded the violet-em- 
broidered counterpane. Beth still said “Now I lay 
me,” like the simple little girl that she was, but it is 
doubtful if she could get her mind on her prayers with 
the silken night-dress caressing the bare soles of her 
feet, and when she was about to lay her down to sleep 
in such a bedstead. 

“ Oh, Anna Mary, it can’t be true ! ” she sighed 
rapturously as a faint suggestion of a delicate odor met 
her as her head sank into the pillow and Anna Mary 


THE CHANGELING 


47 


returned to be sure that she wanted nothing more. “ I 
couldn’t want anything more, Anna Mary, because there 
isn’t anything more. And there’s no use going to sleep 
to dream of fairy-land, the way I did at home, for I see 
more fairy-land with my eyes open than I can dream. 
I’m perfectly happy, but I don’t think I can sleep, 
Anna Mary ; it’s all so wakeful- wonderful ! ” 

“ Try, Miss Beth,” urged Anna Mary. “ There’s so 
much for you to enjoy you want to get up bright and 
rested. Will I turn off all the lights, or leave some 
for you ? ” 

“ Maybe you’d better make it dark, Anna Mary, 
please, though it does seem a shame to waste such a 
room in black darkness. Good-night, and thank you 
very much,” said Beth pressing her hot cheek into the 
cool linen covered pillow and watching the turning of 
the switch that shut from her vision the beauties amid 
which she lay. 

The light from Fifth Avenue gradually brought out 
some of the furnishings of the room in a gray dimness. 
The padded fall of the horses’ feet on the asphalt road 
below kept the little girl awake for a while, but the 
weariness of healthy childhood conquered at last, and 
Beth slept sound through the night and late into the 
morning. 

It was Anna Mary who came to call her. Beth sat 
up, shocked to see by the little clock on the bookcase 
that it was nearly nine o’clock. 

“Anna Mary!” she cried springing out of bed. 
“ What time do you have breakfast ? ” 


48 


BETH'S WONDEE- WINTER 


“ Your cousins have theirs at eight, Miss Beth ; your 
aunt wishes them to be at their lessons with their gov- 
erness by nine. Sometimes your aunt does not break- 
fast with them, but most times she does,” said Anna 
Mary. “ Your uncle went away early in his motor car, 
so this mornin’ your aunt breakfasted in her room. It 
doesn’t matter at all, and it’s lucky you slept so well. 
Your cousins do be crazy to see you, but it’s too late 
for this mornin’. Your aunt sent me to fetch you to 
her sittin’-room when you’ve dressed and breakfasted. 
She’s going to take you shoppin’.” 

“ Oh, help me hurry, please, Anna Mary, if you’ve 
time,” pleaded Beth. 

“Isn’t that what I came for?” demanded Anna 
Mary obligingly getting down to pull on Beth’s stock- 
ings, though the little girl had no idea of receiving that 
sort of service. 

It was a hurried toilet, and a hurried breakfast ; it 
impaired Beth’s appetite to feel that her aunt was wait- 
ing, first to make her acquaintance, and then to take 
her out. She could not realize what Anna Mary told 
her of Mrs. Cortlandt’s needing longer than Beth was 
giving her to get through her daily duty of reading 
letters and dictating replies to her secretary. At last 
she followed Anna Mary to her aunt’s sitting-room door 
and for the first time shrank somewhat from the ordeal 
of meeting new relatives. 

“ Yes, come in,” called a pleasant voice as Anna 
Mary knocked. Beth slipped within the door and 
stood shyly on the threshold. She saw a slender, dark- 



Beth Ran Over to the Gracious Lady. 









THE CHANGELING 


49 


eyed lady seated at a table before the hearth. She held 
out both hands to Beth and cried sweetly : “Is this my 
dear little niece from the Massachusetts hills? My 
dear, you don’t know how glad your uncle and I are to 
have his beloved sister Nannie’s little girl come to us ! 
Come here and let me kiss and kiss you ! ” 

Beth ran over to the gracious lady, melting in the 
warmth of this tender greeting, spoken in a beautifully 
modulated voice. She returned Mrs. Cortlandt’s kisses 
with her warm young cheek pressed against her Aunt 
Alida’s fragrant cool one, and gave her adoring love to 
her on the instant. She was a vision such as Beth’s 
eyes had never rested upon, beautifully gowned, ex- 
quisitely dainty, charming and pretty, and young! 
Beth had never associated aunthood with less than 
fifty years, basing her impression on Aunt Kebecca. 

“We are going out immediately, Beth — the dear 
little quaint name 1 It precisely suits you, little 
pigeon 1 ” she cried touching a silver call-bell on the 
table. “ Frieda,” she said to the maid who responded, 
“ call up the stables and bid John have the horses here 
as soon as he can ; in the victoria, tell him, Frieda. 
And, Frieda, Miss Beth and I will lunch out. Tell 
Miss Natalie and Miss Alys that their cousin will be 
here this afternoon when they return from their ride 
at four. Tell them that they must wait patiently till 
then to see her. 

“ And now, little Beth, amuse yourself as you can 
while your aunt has Anna Mary get her ready to take 
you out for your first glimpse of the marvelous New 


50 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


York shops,” Aunt Alida added when Frieda had with- 
drawn noiselessly to do her bidding. 

Beth was already clad in her coat and round hat 
with the ribbons whose difference of shade was more 
apparent here than it had been at home. There was 
no difficulty in amusing herself ; Aunt Alida’s sitting- 
room was a treasure house about which Beth wandered 
with hands carefully clasped behind her back, inspect- 
ing and marveling. The time seemed short until 
Aunt Alida returned wrapped in heavy furs, her hand- 
some face shaded by the great plumes on her velvet 
hat. 

Beth got into the victoria and sank back on its 
mulberry-colored seat letting the footman draw around 
her the great bear robe, knowing now without doubt 
that she was Cinderella under the blessed spell of her 
fairy godmother’s magic. The footman climbed up 
beside the coachman, folded his mulberry-colored arms 
across his mulberry-colored breast — Beth did not yet 
know that Aunt Alida’s livery was mulberry-colored. 
The coachman gathered up the reins, holding his whip 
stiffly from under the fur cape that covered his mul- 
berry-colored shoulders. The splendid horses, quite as 
splendid and prancing as any that drew the chariots in 
the June circus procession at home, started, champing 
their way slowly down the broad avenue beginning to 
fill with gay equipages, private and public. 

Beth could hardly reply to Aunt Alida’s remarks. 
Her aunt saw that the child was swallowed up in the 
brilliant novelty of the great city, deliciously quivering 


THE CHANGELING 


51 


lest they run into, or were run into by the vehicles 
that crowded the thoroughfare increasingly as they 
descended toward Murray Hill. The sun was shining 
from a cloudless sky, the rare, fleckless, one might 
almost say animated sky of a perfect autumn day in 
New York. The metropolis was giving its best — and 
New York’s best is much — to the little girl who had 
come to see it. Aunt Alida kindly let Beth alone to 
drink in and enjoy her first impressions in her own 
way. At a point where another broad street, this one 
alive with trolley cars, crossed the avenue on which 
they drove, Beth saw that their driver bore to the 
right, increasing the dangers of this hair-erecting drive 
by threading his way across the double lines of trolleys. 
He stopped at last before a large store ; its windows 
were full of entrancing things. The footman sprang 
down to open the door, and stiffly touched his hat to 
Beth as she descended, to her great embarrassment. 
She followed her aunt into the shop, straight to an 
up-stairs department. Mrs. Cortlandt asked to be 
shown something the name of which Beth did not 
catch. The saleswoman brought her boxes upon boxes 
of the daintiest white things — and they were all ex- 
actly the size that Beth could not help seeing would fit 
herself ! 

Aunt Alida began to buy ; Beth had never seen any 
one buy in this way. “ Send me six of these, a dozen 
of those,” she ordered, and paid for nothing. But Beth 
saw that the people in the shop served her eagerly. 
Mrs. Cortlandt went swiftly from room to room. In 


52 


BETH’S WONDER- WmXEE 


the room where she looked at bewilderingly charming 
gowns, coats, guimpes, she began to consult Beth. 

“ Since these are to be yours, my dear, you may as 
well tell me what you like best of those I am willing 
that you should have,” she said. 

To be hers ! It took her breath away ; it was im- 
possible to prefer amid such equal beauty. Somehow 
Beth knew that a long coat, soft white furs, three hats 
of various types, each perfect of its kind ; several dear, 
simple house gowns, street gowns, party gowns, frail 
white guimpes, shoes, an eider-down wrapper that made 
one long to be a little ill to wear it all day ; a cunning 
miniature dressing wrap, like a grown lady’s, bedroom 
slippers, dancing slippers, a fan, gloves, and at last a 
bathing suit, had all been ordered home by her aunt — 
and they were all, all for Beth Bristead ! 

Beth walked behind her aunt to the ribbon counter 
where she bought a quantity of soft, wide ribbons, 
for your hair, little Beth,” Aunt Alida explained. 

For her hair ! The beautiful ribbon that Aunt Re- 
becca’s sewing society had bought to make a ruffle 
around the sofa pillow they raffled at the fair was not 
as fine as these ribbons ! Beth pinched herself ; she 
was in an ecstasy, but it couldn’t possibly be real ! She 
experimented with her soft flesh to see if it still was 
hurtable, every-day, little girl flesh. 

“ Now, Beth dear, we are going to lunch,” announced 
Aunt Alida. “I have had a few things sent out to 
the carriage for you to wear at once, and the rest will 
be delivered by to-night. I am ravenously hungry ! 


THE CHANGELING 


53 


Aren’t you hungry, little niece ? You look — well, you 
look dazed, but I’m glad to say I think you look happy. 
Aren’t you hungry ? ” 

“ No, Aunt Alida, thank you ; I’m not hungry — I’m 
a changehng,” said Beth solemnly. 

“Which is a totally different complaint,” laughed 
Aunt Alida. “ You funny morsel of a lassie ! Aren’t 
you fond of pretty things, Bethie ? Isn’t it fun to be 
a changeling ? I give you my word I’ve had a per- 
fectly beautiful time playing the fairy that changes 
you ! Aren’t you happy, little niece ? ” 

“Happy! Happy!” echoed Beth in a rapture be- 
yond expressing. 


CHAPTEK lY 


THE FAIRY-LAND CHILDREN 

B eth and her aunt came home a little before three. 

Luncheon in a hotel restaurant, Pompeian red and 
bronze in coloring, with flowers on every table and 
ladies at every table, also, whom one could hardly tell 
from the flowers, and an orchestra playing such music 
as Beth had never heard, completed the bewilderment 
of the morning. The little girl returned to her uncle’s 
house like a small blossom overfull of honey ; she had 
seen so many splendors that she could take in no 
more. 

Mrs. Hodgman followed Mrs. Cortlandt to her sitting- 
room where Beth had also been taken. 

“Mrs. Cortlandt,” the housekeeper began, “I have 
arranged for a maid for Miss Beth, if you approve. 
Frieda would be glad to serve the young lady. There 
is a maid whom I can take on in Frieda’s place, if you 
are satisfied to promote Frieda to the position of Miss 
Beth’s maid.” 

“Frieda — that is the pleasant girl who serves my 
breakfast when I take it in my room ? Yes, she will 
do excellently,” approved Mrs. Cortlandt. “Will you 
kindly have her sent to me at once ? Since Miss Beth’s 
maid is already at hand she may begin her duties now. 
54 


THE FAIRY LAND CHILDREN 


65 


Thank you, Mrs. Hodgman. I hope the change will 
not incommode you ; it is troublesome to train a new — 
parlor maid, wasn’t Frieda ? ” 

“Yes, madam, but I am sure that the girl who will 
replace her comes with an excellent training,” said Mrs. 
Hodgman. “ Frieda shall come to you at once, Mrs. 
Cortlandt.” 

Beth listened half in dismay. What should she do 
with a maid ? Or, rather, what would the maid do to 
her? Yet, evidently, she was to have one, a whole 
maid of her own, precisely as if she were the Princess 
Elizabeth whom she often had played at being, at home 
in the old-fashioned garden ! 

Mrs. Cortlandt opened a pile of personal letters which 
her secretary had laid on her table for this end. Beth 
was admiring the tiny jeweled blade that her aunt used, 
when Frieda knocked. 

“ Ah, Frieda ! yes,” said Mrs. Cortlandt. “ You are 
to be my little niece’s new maid. I hope that you will 
serve her well. If you need instruction in your task go 
to Anna Mary for advice ; she will guide you. Go with 
Miss Beth to her room now, and help her put on a blue 
gown which I brought home with me, and which has 
been sent up-stairs. There are ribbons, shoes, stockings 
with it, you will find. By the time she has been made 
ready her cousins will return from their ride, and will 
not be willing to wait longer to meet her. Come to 
me, Beth, here, after you are dressed. And, Frieda, 
there are a good many things coming for Miss Beth, 
an outfit more appropriate to town than the clothes 


56 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


that she wore in the country. When they are delivered 
please put them away in her wardrobes, and mark the 
underclothing with her initials, please. Y ou understand 
lettering ? ” 

“Yes, madam; I was taught in Germany,” said 
Frieda. 

“ Then well taught,” said Mrs. Cortlandt with her 
smile that won all who served her to serve her well. 
“ Run away now with Frieda, Bethie dear, and come 
back to me as soon as she has made you from an out- 
doors girl into a little house-girl.” 

Beth went obediently. She was not sure which was 
her room, but Frieda led the way up-stairs to it directly, 
and Beth’s heart leaped again as she opened the door 
upon its beauty, now illumined by the long light of 
mid-afternoon, and the fire still burning on the hearth. 

“ Could you sit there, Frieda, and let me sit here 
while you talk to me ? ” suggested Beth settling herself 
into the lowest and loveliest of the willow rockers be- 
fore the fire. 

“You could sit there. Miss Beth, but I certainly 
couldn’t sit here,” said Frieda. “ Even if it would be 
right — and it wouldn’t — I have to open these boxes and 
get out what your aunt wants you to wear this after- 
noon.” And Frieda rapidly began her work. 

“ Oh, let me see them, Frieda. I saw so many that 
I don’t know which Aunt Alida took, and I don’t know 
which of those she took she brought home in the car- 
riage ! ” cried Beth falling out of her chair in the keen- 
ness of her interest. “ Don’t you ever sit down and do 


THE FAIEY-LAND CHILDEEN 


67 


nothing in New York, Frieda? It’s only because it’s 
my first day that it rushes so, isn’t it ? ” 

“ I can’t say that’s it. Miss Beth,” said Frieda. “ If 
you’d come here from Germany you’d think things 
rushed all the time.” 

“ Some day, if ever we can sit down, you’ll tell me 
about Germany, won’t you please, Frieda ? I always 
thought it must be heavenly to live in a country where 
storks stood on one leg on the edges of chimneys on 
straw-covered roofs, as they do in Germany, in my 
Grimm’s Tales,” cried Beth. “ Isn’t that the dearest 
dress? Don’t you imagine Aunt Alida brought it 
home with us so I could put it on before my cousins 
saw me, and so they wouldn’t think I didn’t look nice ? 
Of course I see already that Miss Tappan, who made 
my winter suit, isn’t quite such a fine, fine dressmaker 
as she looks where Aunt Kebecca lives — where Miss 
Tappan and I live, too.” 

“ Miss Beth,” said Frieda, wisely avoiding the ques- 
tion, “ I’ve laid everything out, even your wrapper, and 
now, if you please. I’ll have to dress you ; we haven’t 
any too much time,” 

“ All right,” sighed Beth. ‘‘ Will you tell me how to 
begin to let you dress me, Frieda ? I always dress my- 
self, you know.” • 

Frieda laughed outright ; she was a young and pretty 
maid, much nearer Beth’s idea of a maid than Anna 
Mary, whom, Beth reproachfully reminded herself, she 
had found most kind. But she was glad that Frieda 
was young and pretty. 


58 


BETH’S WOKDEE-WINTEE 


“ Well, then, Miss Beth,” Frieda instructed her, “ first 
of all, if you will sit on that higher chair, please, I will 
put on these nice silk stockings and your slippers.” 

Beth complied. When they were on she surveyed 
her slender legs and feet with undisguised admiration. 
“ I never knew they could look like that ! ” she sighed, 
remembering the sturdy straightness of the lines of her 
feet in their old-time coverings. 

Swiftly Frieda divested the little girl of the plain un- 
derclothing, stitching, buttons and a narrow edge of 
Hamburg embroidery its only ornaments, which Aunt 
Eebecca had made. In its place she clothed her in the 
dainty French garments of Aunt Alida’s buying, tucked, 
lace-inserted, rufiied, and cut on lines of beauty. 

Beth laid her discarded underskirt beside her new 
one, contrasting them. “ Poor Aunt Eebecca ! ” she 
said. But she wouldn’t mind if she understood — but 
she never, never will ! They look exactly like the two 
aunts who got them for me.” 

Frieda was not heeding Beth’s audible reflections. 
“Now, Miss Beth, your hair,” she said, and Beth, prof- 
iting by her experience of the previous night, seated 
herself before the dressing table. Frieda threw over 
her shoulders a butterfly garment made of handker- 
chiefs, apparently, and began to brush Beth’s abundant 
hair. 

“ To-morrow, if you please. Miss Beth, you must let 
me shampoo it till it is like yellow thistle silk,” said 
Frieda. “ This is the best I can do now.” 

Frieda’s best was a very good best. Beth stared at 


THE PAIEY-LAND CHILDEEK 


69 


herself amazed. Her hair fell in a pretty mass of color 
around her shoulders. It rippled up from her temples, 
yet shaded them lightly as it had never done in all its 
straight-brushed-back existence. A great bow of soft 
wide ribbon, a plaid of rainbow colors, stood straight 
up on the top of Beth’s head, like a sort of aureole of 
fashion. 

“ Mercy, Frieda ! How did you ever do it ? ” cried 
Beth, appreciating the extreme glory of the bow that 
Frieda had tied. 

First a white guimpe, so delicate in texture that its 
wee tucks seemed impossible, then a blue gown over 
that, bright yet dark, touched here and there with 
white lace and glimpses of a red that was like the sun- 
set, half melted into gold, and Beth stood before the 
glass not knowing whether or not to believe her eyes. 

The face that blushed back at her was Beth 
Bristead’s face, in spite of the new and stylish arrange- 
ment of the hair, but — it was pretty ! It was even 
very pretty ! It had never occurred to Beth before that 
she was a pretty child, and the discovery overtopped 
the bliss of owning such a beautiful gown. It was 
wonderful — all of it, the dear slippers and silken stock- 
ings, the pretty gown, but above all the pretty Beth ! 
Being a sweet-natured little soul Beth’s first impulse on 
making the discovery of her own prettiness was the 
wholesome impulse of loving gratitude. She felt a 
great wave of love for Frieda who had dressed her so 
well, and she worshiped the Aunt Alida who had 
bought her the treasures which had turned the little 


60 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


brown wren from the brown country house into this 
brilliant blue bird of paradise, fit for a New York cage. 
If Aunt Rebecca could have read her heart then all her 
fears that luxury would spoil little Beth might have 
been set at rest, for if good fortune makes a person lov- 
ing and grateful no amount of it can harm her. 

“ Frieda, Frieda, Frieda ! ” Beth cried, and threw her 
arms around her maid, just as she stooped to pick a tiny 
white thread off the hem of Beth’s skirt. 

“ It looks beautiful, Miss Beth ; it’s no wonder you’re 
pleased,” said Frieda, discreetly. But she looked 
pleased herself, and inwardly thanked her stars that 
she was to serve such an affectionate and unspoiled 
little lady. “ I think you’re ready now, and your aunt 
will be looking for you. Miss Beth,” Frieda added. 

Beth started for the door. “ I ought to pick up the 
room, Frieda,” she said, stopped by the orderly habits 
in which Aunt Rebecca had trained her. 

“That’s partly what I’m for. Miss Beth. It isn’t 
your work,” said Frieda, beginning it. 

“ I wouldn’t mind stopping for it, Frieda ; I think 
I’d like to do it ; I think I’m scared to go down alone,” 
said Beth. But she went on her way, none the less. 

Her aunt heard Beth hesitating at her sitting-room 
door before she gently pushed it a little farther open. 
“ Come in, Bethie,” she called. Beth saw her in a 
silken wrap lying on the couch before her hearth fire. 

“ Come over here where I can see you, little niece. 
Will you please touch that button beside the door to 
turn on the centre lights so that I can see you better ? ” 


THE FAIEY-LAND CHILDEEN 


61 


Mrs. Cortlandt said. “Why, what a fine little bird 
these new fine feathers have made of you ! ” she cried 
starting up in genuine pleasure. 

Beth fiung herself on her aunt’s shoulder, forgetting 
fear in her gratitude, responding to the smile in Aunt 
Alida’s dark eyes. 

“ Aunt Alida,” she cried, “ I’ve got to kiss you ! I’m 
’most crazy, I’m so happy and I look so nice, and I’ve 
truly got to kiss you ! ” 

Mrs. Cortlandt laughed as she received Beth’s violent 
kisses. “ Did you think I should object to being 
kissed ? ” she asked. 

And then there came a hurrying of feet up the 
padded stairs and three figures burst into the room. 
Beth straightened herself and looked at them, for she 
knew that they were her cousins. 

She saw a tall girl with dark eyes, more flashing, 
brilliant eyes than Aunt Alida’s. She wore a riding 
habit, its skirt caught up slightly, showing russet rid- 
ing boots. She wore a short coat and a hard hat and 
carried a stock in her gauntleted hand ; the severity of 
her costume set off the brilliant beauty of her young 
face. Beside her stood another girl, not much taller 
than Beth, and fair, like Beth, but she had none of 
Beth’s rosiness, nor was she as pretty. She, too, wore 
a riding habit, green, like her sister’s, but with a soft 
hat, and she carried a whip. Behind the two girls was 
a boy, short and sturdy, with the elder girl’s dark eyes, 
and the younger ’s fair hair, but the boy’s hair was cut 
so short that its color hardly mattered. His face was 


62 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


full of mischief that seemed to run over into the room 
— as it often did, in fact, as Beth was to discover later. 

‘‘ Children, this is Beth,” said Mrs. Cortlandt. 
‘‘ Here is your own cousin, though you never have 
seen her before. Beth, this is Natalie, Alys and Dirk.” 

Natalie and Alys kissed Beth and murmured a greet- 
ing ; Dirk shook hands with her so limply that it was 
surprising when one saw how firm knit and strong his 
hand was. Then the four stared at one another for a 
moment of criticism. 

Natalie spoke with the advantage of her fifteen years. 
“ Alys and I are going up to get ready for dinner. 
Won’t you come up to our rooms and chat ? We have 
a new box of chocolates,” she said. 

“Yes, Natalie, that’s a good suggestion,” said her 
mother with an air of relief. “ Carry Beth off with 
you ; chocolates sweeten the hardships of getting 
acquainted. Your uncle will dine at home to-night, 
Bet hie ; he is anxious to know his sister’s little girl.” 

Dirk disappeared after the fashion of a lively small 
boy who neither wants girls nor is wanted by them. 
Natalie tucked Beth’s hand under her arm with her 
riding stock, and Alys followed them up-stairs. 

Natalie led the way to the door just beyond Beth’s 
room. She opened it, revealing a large chamber, fur- 
nished in Tuna mahogany, hung with old rose and 
dark reds, carpeted with plain velvet carpet in a 
reddish brown, a curious, splendid room which made a 
becoming setting for the slender dark girl it sheltered, 
as Beth dimly perceived without understanding it. 


THE FAIEY-LAND CHILDEEN 


63 


Next to this room, connected with it, was a beautiful 
green room, furnished in bird’s-eye maple, a green 
carpet rug on its floor, green and white empire brocade 
on its walls, green curtains, and a stand of waving 
ferns in its northern window. 

This was Alys’s room, and Beth exclaimed : “ Isn’t 
this a dear room ! It looks like ‘ By cool Siloam’s 
shady rill.’ ” 

Hatalie and Alys stared ; they did not know how 
large a part in Beth’s education hymns had played. 
But Alys was pleased ; she gave Beth the first smile 
that she had accorded her. The smile deepened as 
Beth darted forward, espying on a cushion a plump 
tiger kitten, who raised a short, cheerful little face that 
looked smiling, and a pair of large eyes, as Beth buried 
her fingers in fur that was as fine and soft as chin- 
chilla. 

“ What a darling ! ” she cried fervently. 

“ She’s a perfect angel ! ” cried Alys thawing fast. 
“ She talks all the time, answers each time we speak to 
her, and she knows as well as you would what I say 
when I ask her where her ball is. Poppy, where’s 
your ball ? ” she added to prove her words. 

The kitten stretched and jumped down. For an 
instant she poised on her forefeet in descending, and 
Beth laughed. 

« YTe’re afraid there is something wrong about her ; 
she can’t quite control her hind legs,” Natalie explained 
the movement. “ Poppity-pippity-wum ! ” she added 
pettingly. 


64 


BETH^S WONDEE-WINTEE 


“ M-m-m-m ! ” cooed the kitten answering, as Alys 
had foretold that she would do. 

Poppy brought out a worsted ball for which she had 
been hunting under the chairs and triumphantly laid it 
at Alys’s feet. 

“ Didn’t I tell you she was an angel ? ” cried Alys. 
“We call her Poppy because she pops up so queerly in 
her back legs. Oh, Poppity-pippity-wum, you blessed 
Poppy-pip ! ” She snatched the kitten to her breast 
and buried kisses in her soft fur. 

A maid came in and ISTatalie spoke to her in French ; 
awestruck Beth knew that it was French because there 
were French market gardeners near her home. 

“ My bath is ready, so you must excuse me, Beth,” 
said l^atalie. “Alys must go to get ready for hers, 
too. We always swim a little after riding. Will you 
stay here with Poppy ? Then you can sit with us while 
we have our hair done, and we’ll eat chocolates and get 
acquainted.” 

“ I’d like to go into my room to write a note to Aunt 
Eebecca,” said Beth shyly. 

“ Why, of course. You won’t get another chance to- 
night,” agreed Natalie. “ Eun along, little Coz.” 

Beth ran. She closed her door and wrote rapidly 
with a pencil on a pad which she found waiting for 
her, a pad not like her school pads, but one of the 
finest paper. 

“Dear Aunt Eebecca,” she said. “I am well. I 
got here very well. Anna Mary is kind; she was a 
twin, and the other one was called Mary Anna. Aunt 


THE FAIEY-LAND CHILDEEN 


65 


Alida is prettier than any picture in all the magazines. 
She is so kind I love her most to death. Natalie is 
pretty ; Alys is light like me. There is a kitten that 
is lovely named Poppy because her hind legs sorter pop 
up when she jumps. I don’t know about Dirk. The 
house is so beautiful that words could never tell, you 
couldn’t think what it was like. Fairies never had 
such a house. I’ve got more lovely clothes than a 
princess and a maid all my own. Her name is Freedah 
— I don’t know if that is right spelling. The house is 
all over servants everywhere. You wouldn’t wonder. 
Anybody would want to be a servant here. There is 
an ellyvator like my garnet ring box. My room is 
blue velvet and wood-fire and silk quilt and comforter 
— you never saw such a house. My love to Janie and 
all the girls. I will write them if I can. In New 
York you can’t write, I guess. My love to Tabby. 
My love to Ella Lowndes ; tell her I have a whole maid 
to help me, all my own. My love to Miss Tappan. 
My love to you. I hope you are well. I shall be per- 
fectly good for I ought to be because everybody makes 
me in a fairy story. Your loving niece, Elizabeth 
Bristead. P. S. New York is very bright. The cab 
that took us here is run by something without horses 
and a man up behind to steer. It is very strange. 
From Beth.” 

Beth hastily put her letter into its envelope, and ran 
back to Natalie’s room. She found both her cousins in 
their wrappers, Natalie having her hair arranged, Alys 
waiting her turn and both eating chocolates. Dirk 


66 


BETH’S WONDEB- WINTER 


bounced up behind Beth as she started to go in and 
made her jump. 

“ Go away, Dirk ; we don’t want you,” cried Natalie. 

“ Go straight away,” added Alys. 

Dirk grinned and entered behind Beth. “ I’m going 
to have some candy, too ; I heard what you told Beth,” 
he said. “ And she wants me.” He looked wickedly 
at Beth, whose face plainly declared her opinion of his 
intrusion. 

“ May I direct my letter with ink ? I haven’t any. 
And when does the mail go out ? ” Beth asked. 

Dirk promptly stood on his head. “ Whoop-ee ! ” 
he shouted. “ The mail go out ! ” 

“ Dirk I ” said Natalie sharply. “We put our letters 
in the mail boxes, Beth, and we don’t know when they 
go out; they are taken up every — oh, often; I don’t 
know when. And you will find ink in my desk over 
there. Alys, help Beth.” 

Alys lazily arose and showed Beth where to find 
what she wanted. “ Celie, prennez cette lettre avec 
les autres,” she said to the maid. Her French was not 
equal to Natalie’s, but it made Beth feel quite overcome 
to find her cousins speaking another tongue. 

“ Do you love to dance ? ” asked Alys suddenly. 

“ I don’t know how,” admitted Beth sadly. 

“ We’ll teach you,” said Natalie quickly. “ Alys, 
Celie is ready for you now. Take a chocolate, my 
dear Beth ; take a handful. Come with me and help 
me get into my gown. I’m going to hurry dressing to- 
night.” 


THE FAIRY-LAND CHILDREN 


67 


Beth went with Natalie into the adjoining dressing 
room. She felt like a very little girl. To be sure at 
home big girls of fifteen seemed older than she, but 
Natalie was almost a young lady — still she was kind. 
And Alys seemed worlds away from this little country 
cousin. While she found herself wishing that Dirk 
actually was worlds away, he called after her : 

“ Look out, Beth; Nat keeps mice in her dressing 
room ! ” With which pleasant fiction he disappeared, 
and Beth heard him sliding down the balustrade in the 
hall with a wild whoop which was like the whoops of 
the boys at home, whom she and Janie Little always 
feared. 

After a time Natalie was ready for dinner in a crim- 
son cloth gown that made her look “ like an Indian 
princess,” thought Beth vaguely. Alys was dainty in 
her pale pink. Both girls wore their hair rolled be- 
hind their ears and tied in great drooping bows. Their 
hands were white, with nails like ivory tips. Beth 
glanced at her own firm little tanned hands, and their 
round little nails that showed the marks of gardening 
and climbing. “ I’m going to grow them ! ” she 
thought, and followed the girls down-stairs. 

Mrs. Cortlandt met them. She was all in black lace, 
with American Beauty roses at her belt. Beth looked 
up at her aunt’s white shoulders and down at her train. 

‘‘ Is there a party ? ” she asked timidly. 

“ Only ourselves, Bethie. You’re the only party, 
and you’re such a very little party ! ” laughed Aunt 
Alida, tucking the little guest under her arm. 


68 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


They went down to the library, and from the depths 
of a great chair arose a tall gentleman in evening 
clothes ; at a glance Beth saw that she looked like 
him, but she was afraid of him, none the less. 

“Jim, here is Bethie,” said Aunt Alida, and Beth 
found that the tall man was kissing her most tenderly. 
“ My dear, you look like your mother, and I’m much 
obliged to you,” he said. 

Then a solemn person, also in evening clothes, whom 
Beth had not seen, drew aside the portiere. 

“ Madam, dinner is served,” he said softly. 

Mr. Cortlandt bent and put Beth’s hand through his 
arm. “ Allow me to take you out to dinner. Miss Bris- 
tead ; Dirk, offer your mother your arm,” he said. 

Beth was so frightened that for a moment she 
wanted to run away or cry — both, perhaps. But she 
looked up sideways into her uncle’s face and caught 
the twinkle in a pair of blue eyes decidedly like the 
pair that looked back at her every day in her glass. So 
she altered her mind, and laughed instead of crying. 

Thus with perfect cheerfulness Beth went out to her 
first formal dinner. 


CHAPTER V 


ALL SOETS OF NEW STEPS 

O NLY on the first morning of her visit did Beth 
oversleep. The second morning she was up 
bright and early, so early that, with some misgiving of 
doing wrong, she had dressed before Frieda came to 
call her. 

“ I couldn’t lie still, Frieda,” she said apologetically. 
“ I did leave my hair for you to do ; I knew I could 
never make such a bow as you tie. But I wished I was 
a lot of girls to dress ; I didn’t know what to do, I’ve 
been up so long. I wanted to make my bed, but I was 
afraid it would be wrong to make a bed in Hew York. 
I always made my own bed at Aunt Rebecca’s.” 

“ It’s hard to get out of the habit of a thing,” said 
Frieda, uncertain what she ought to reply to this state- 
ment. 

“ Yes,” cried Beth eagerly. “ Aunt Rebecca says we 
ought to be very careful about habits. She says they 
are just like poppies in a vegetable garden ; you get the 
package of seeds in the first place yourself, but after 
that they keep on growing in spite of you. Still, I 
must say I like poppies in the vegetables; they look 
perfectly lovely in through the peas and standing up 
69 


70 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


over the beets and the spinach. But Aunt Rebecca 
always made me watch when the dear little seed cups 
turned brown and told me to gather all the seeds. 
But they came up every year just the same. She says 
that’s the way with habits. Only I’m not as sure as I 
ought to be that I was very, very careful to catch every 
single seed ! They are so tiny ! It was hard not to 
spill any, but I’m not certain sure I cared if I gathered 
them when the wind blew and they were bound to 
spill. I guess we don’t always care if we don’t get 
over our habits, either. I have the habit of reading 
when I eat, and I don’t believe I ever tried my best to 
get over it — it is just like poppy seeds, after all ! ” 

“We put poppy seeds on the top of our bread in 
Germany,” said Frieda gathering up Beth’s hair in her 
left hand, preparatory to tying it with the admired 
bow. She found Beth lovable, but perplexing. “ You 
mustn’t make your bed, Miss Beth,” she added. “ Even 
I wouldn’t do that ; that’s the chambermaid’s work.” 

“ I should think it would be dreadfully hard never to 
do something somebody else ought to do when there 
are so many people to do every little thing,” said Beth. 
“ That’s even a lovelier, stickier-up bow than the plaid 
ribbon last night, Frieda,” she added, beaming at the 
blue ribbon now crowning her. It matched the pretty 
gown waiting its new wearer — for that was the way 
Beth thought of the dresses her aunt had bought her. 

“ They all are like lovely New York pieces of nice 
girls, waiting to get acquainted with me,” she had said 
to Frieda the previous night when her maid was fold- 


ALL SOETS OF NEW STEPS 


71 


ing and hanging up the beautiful garments which had 
come home for Beth. 

‘‘ You are ready now, Miss Beth,” said Frieda. “ You 
will find all the family in the breakfast room, where 
you had supper the night you came. Mrs. Cortlandt 
always comes down when Mr. Cortlandt is at home. 
She likes to have her family breakfast together, and 
she won’t let her children get up late.” 

“ I’m to do lessons with them,” said Beth rather 
sadly. “ Aunt Alida said that she didn’t want me to 
lose a whole winter’s study, so of course I’ll do what she 
likes me to, but I’m scared. Natalie and Alys speak 
French, Frieda ! ” 

“ Well, I’m sure you speak English enough to make 
up for it,” said Frieda, puzzling Beth by this indirect 
tribute to her unconscious quaintness, the result of a 
life spent with eccentric Aunt Kebecca, and with the 
books which were the little girl’s preferred comrades. 

Beth went down the broad stairs and hesitatingly 
found her way to the door of the rose-hued breakfast 
room. It was a morning room, flooded by the early 
sunshine; it was more beautiful seen by the strong 
eastern light for which its colors were planned than it 
had been under the electricity. Beth stopped on its 
threshold, forgetting to salute the assembled family. 

“ It looks like ‘ Brightest and best of the sons of the 
morning ’ ! ” she cried. 

“ Beth, what do you mean ? ” demanded Natalie. 
Beth’s uncle put down his paper to listen to her answer. 

The hymn, you know,” explained Beth, “ and the 


72 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


room ; it’s so — so, as if it would ‘ shiue on our darkness,’ 
you know, when you come into it from the hall.” 

Eiggs, the butler, with the greatest dilRculty sup- 
pressed a smile which would have been so unbecoming 
to his office that it would, so to speak, have unbutlered 
him if he had not been able to prevent its coming. 
Happily he succeeded, but Aunt Alida laughed, and 
Uncle Jim shouted, though Beth could not see anything 
amusing. 

“ Here’s your place, beside your old uncle ; come and 
take it, little Puritan,” he cried. Do you know what 
you are, Beth ? ” 

“ Yes, but not what you mean I am,” said Beth, un- 
expectedly, with a twinkle exactly like her uncle’s in 
her own blue eyes. 

“ You are a Survival and an Anomaly,” said Uncle 
Jim gravely. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” said Beth, pretending to sigh, appreci- 
ating these formidable words as fun, even though she 
could not understand them. 

“ You are a Survival of our grandmother’s day, and 
consequently an Anomaly in modern Gotham,” ex- 
plained Uncle Jim, without letting light upon the sub- 
ject. “ Don’t you like grape fruit, little S. and A. ? ” 

“ It is a little bitter,” said Beth trying to keep from 
shuddering as she spoke. 

“It is like adversity, has a certain bitterness, yet 
sweet are its uses. Eiggs, take Miss Elizabeth’s fruit 
and pass her Master Dirk’s jam. Dirk doesn’t like 
grape fruit either, Beth,” said this gay uncle, whose 


ALL SOETS OF NEW STEPS 


73 


boyishly breezy manner was a delightful surprise in a 
full-grown man. 

“ Is that all of Dirk’s name, Uncle Jim ? It — isn’t 
it a New York way of saying Dick ? ” asked Beth. 

“ No, indeed ! ” cried Uncle Jim. “ That is a Dutch 
name. Don’t you know, my dear, that we are of Hol- 
land Dutch descent, and are immensely proud of it ? ” 

‘‘We are ? Oh, you mean — yes, I see ! My mother 
was. The Bristeads are Massachusetts people. Aunt 
Eebecca says. She says a Bristead marched out with 
the Lexington men, on the 19 th of April, 1775. Aunt 
Eebecca says he played the fife all the way to the fight 
and then fought like fifty,” said Beth proudly. 

“ You mean like fifety,” said Al 3 ^s. “ Don’t give us 
history at breakfast, Beth.” 

“ I advise you to take history wherever you can get 
it ; you need it,” said Natalie. 

Beth finished her breakfast in silence. She dimly 
felt a little snubbed by Alys ; besides the rose room 
was so jewel-like in its beauty that she was glad to en- 
joy it while her uncle and aunt discussed plans in which 
she did not know that she had an interest, but which 
concerned her closely. 

“ Now for the day’s work ! ” said Natalie when she 
arose from the table. “ You haven’t seen the school- 
room, have you, Beth ? ” 

“ I haven’t seen lots of the house,” said Beth. 

“ That’s so ; we’ll show it to you ! Not this after- 
noon, because Alys and I are going to start you as a 
dancer to-day. To-morrow, is dancing class day, and 


74 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTEE 


I’m going to have you know a little about it before you 
see all the girls. But the next day — that will be Sun- 
day ? — after church, then, we’ll take you all over this 
house. Now come up with us and show us what a 
learned person you are, Elizabeth Bristead. They say 
all Massachusetts children speak Greek just as naturally 
as they wear spectacles. But you don’t wear spectacles, 
do you ? ” Natalie stooped to look close into Beth’s 
eyes as if to make sure that this surprising fact were 
really true. 

Beth laughed. Natalie’s mixture of big girl kindli- 
ness with perfect friendliness was winning Beth’s affec- 
tion fast ; it was not a hard thing to do, for Beth was 
as inclined to love as a heliotrope is inclined to the 
warmth of the sun. 

She slipped her hand confidingly into her oldest 
cousin’s and they preceded Alys up-stairs. Dirk lin- 
gered to prove how easily he could overtake the girls 
two steps at a time. Beth knew that he had succeeded, 
because Alys screamed and sat down on her feet to 
protect her ankles from his energetic pinching. Dirk 
stood in awe of his father, but once safe from his eye 
Dirk lost few opportunities of making Alys’s life a bur- 
den. He was planning like pleasures in Beth’s case, 
whose gentle, shy and sweet manner promised her an 
easy victim. 

“ What a schoolroom ! ” cried Beth stopping short. 
“ Why, I never saw such a schoolroom. There’s noth- 
ing in our school at home like it ! Is it all for you 
alone ? ” 


ALL SOETS OF NEW STEPS 


75 


“ No, it’s for you too, this winter,” laughed Natalie. 

It was a large room, square and sunny. Its burlaped 
walls were covered with copies of famous pictures and 
casts from glorious sculptures. Tables, and four desks, 
chairs, globes, instruments which Beth did not under- 
stand, all these the little girl saw in her first amazed 
look around the room. A bookcase full of books of all 
sizes, that looked as if they might also be of all sorts, 
filled one end of this magic schoolroom’s great width. 

“ No wonder you speak French,” murmured Beth. 

‘‘ Don’t you ? ” asked Alys. 

“ Not a single word,” said Beth slowly and impress- 
ively. “ Do you use all these things ? ” she added. 

“We draw from the casts, and we use the instruments 
in our chemistry and astronomy, and that is our own 
school library,” said Alys, “ and our piano. You see 
we have special teachers for various branches, and les- 
sons in certain things on certain days.” 

“ And we learn riding and swimming and gymnastics 
out of school, and that’s the best of it,” said Dirk. 
“ To-day we’ve got to have history and literature, and 
writing compositions — that’s all one woman ” 

“ He means the teacher,” interrupted Alys. “ But 
Miss Deland is a lady, not a woman.” 

“ And it’s the worst of the lot,” Dirk concluded. 

The “ lady who was not a woman ” arriving at that 
moment cut off further explanations. Beth saw a girl 
with a clear, strong face and the busy air of kindly 
preoccupation that meant that Miss Deland was a 
student who loved her work. 


76 


BETH’S WONDEE-WiNTEB 


“ This is the little cousin whom you expected ? ” she 
said at once. “ How do you do, my dear ? ” 

“ Very well, thank you,” said Beth faintly, overcome 
by the depths of ignorance which Miss Deland was about 
to discover in her. 

Miss Deland lost no time. “ Keady, Natalie, Alys, 

Dirk,” she said. “ And ” 

Beth Bristead,” Natalie said. “ Beth may sit here, 
mayn’t she. Miss Deland ? ” 

She moved a chair near the window as she spoke, 
and pushed one of the small tables in front of it. 

Then the work began. To Beth’s relief there was no 
hint of any tongue but her own. She listened for a 
while, and, listening, plucked up heart. Natalie was 
reciting in English history. Beth could not have re- 
peated Natalie’s lesson, but it sounded half familiar to 
her. She did not know it, but she was a fortunate 
child in having been given the freedom of a library of 
English classics in Aunt Bebecca’s house, which lacked 
so much of other, less important things. 

Alys’s recitation was in United States history, and 
this Beth knew thoroughly ; she cheered up more and 
more as she saw that, though she was going to be 
crushed by her lucky cousins’ accomplishments, there 
would be studies in which she would not disgrace them. 
After the three Cortlandts had recited Miss Deland set 
them to writing a synopsis of what they had repeated. 
While this was doing she examined Beth. When the 
examination was over Beth found herself before the 
bookcase at the end of the room talking excitedly to 


ALL SOETS OF NEW STEPS 


77 


Miss Deland about the many favorite volumes she was 
finding on its shelves, with the sudden conviction that 
private lessons with a governess was the most delight- 
ful thing in the world, instead of the ordeal that she 
had dreaded. The morning ended with a story which 
Miss Deland set each of her four pupils to write, the 
subject being one that she herself suggested. . Beth was 
surprised to see Natalie and Alys struggling with their 
task ; Dirk wrote faster than either of his sisters. Beth, 
who had written stories ever since she could remember, 
and who cherished the hope of one day being a great 
author, finished her story first of all. It was the one Miss 
Deland selected to read aloud, “ because ” — Miss Deland 
actually said this ! — “ it was by far the best of the four.” 

Beth went to lunch a happy Beth ; it was hard to feel 
that her cousins could speak French, draw, play, dance, 
ride, knew astronomy, chemistry and nobody could say 
what else, and that she, Beth, could do nothing in par- 
ticular. She was properly glad to excel them in some- 
thing. 

‘‘We are going to be excused from our exercise this 
afternoon, Beth, to teach you to dance,” said Natalie. 
“We always go out after lunch, but we aren’t going 
to-day. You see next week is Thanksgiving, and we are 
going to give a dance. It is to introduce you to our 
friends. Of course, dear, my friends are too old for 
you, and Alys’s are, too. Dirk is nearest your age, but 
his friends are all boys. So we’re going to ask our own 
set, just as usual, but we are going to invite their 
younger brothers and sisters for you.” 


78 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“Please don’t, Natalie,” said Beth. “I shouldn’t 
know what to do with them.” 

“ You don’t have to do anything with them,” said 
Alys. “ We’re going to give a dance. It’s going to 
be a fancy dress dance, all in Puritan, or colonial cos- 
tume, because it is Thanksgiving. It will be lots of 
fun.” 

“ I’m going to dress up as a turkey gobbler and scare 
you girls to death,” said Dirk. 

“ You’d better go as a goose,” said Natalie. 

, “ No, let him go as a gobbler, then he can have his 
neck wrung,” said Alys sharply. 

“ I’ll be an Indian and scalp you ! ” shouted Dirk 
turning red with rage. 

“ I guess it would be more like you to be Miles 
Standish that took care of the poor Pilgrims, because 
you are the only boy of this family,” said Beth hastily, 
with her sweetest smile. Quarrels made her quite sick 
and she threw herself into the breach to prevent this 
one. Dirk stared at her. It was true that he tormented 
his sisters and was rather a trial, but they had never 
tried coaxing him into better ways. They considered 
him a nuisance and let him feel it ; it was a new experi- 
ence to Dirk to find a girl implying that a noble part 
would become him. 

“ Yes, I guess I would ! A lot I’d take care of ’em,” 
he muttered, but his wrathy look subsided, and he 
glanced at Beth with an expression that made her r e- 
solve to be friends with Dirk, awful as she had been 
thinking him. 


ALL S0ET8 OF NEW STEPS 


79 


“ Well,” Natalie resumed after this cloud had blown 
over, “ you have only till next Thursday to learn to 
dance, Beth. So come up-stairs and begin this minute. 
You’ve simply got to two-step and waltz by then or 
you won’t have any fun. You come up-stairs and Alys 
and I will take turns playing and teaching you, and to- 
morrow you are going to dancing class with us.” 

Beth meekly obeyed. For the next two hours her 
cousins relentlessly put her through vigorous dancing 
lessons in the schoolroom. At first she could not move 
her feet, but having an ear for rhythm she did better 
after a while, and by the time her teachers gave up for 
the day Beth could dance a two-step, after a fashion. 
Dirk came in and rewarded Beth for her kindness after 
lunch by offering to be her partner. Natalie and Alys 
were so surprised that they could hardly believe their 
ears ; Dirk had never been known to do such a thing 
before in his ten years of life. 

The next day was Saturday and in the morning the 
four children were to go to dancing class. 

“ Why, Frieda, isn’t it a school ? ” cried Beth com- 
ing in from her bath to see a froth of dainty things 
laid out on her bed, ready for her to put on. 

“It is, and it isn’t; you’ll see,” said Frieda. “Mrs. 
Cortlandt picked out what you should wear.” 

So Beth, still wondering, submitted to being dressed ; 
everything that Frieda put on was so beautiful that she 
soon began to be glad of any excuse for wearing it. 
All in white Beth found that she was to be clad, white 
stockings, white slippers, foamy white skirts, one above 


80 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


another, and finally a white gown over them all, fine 
and simple, with only hem and tucks to ornament it, 
but showing through its delicacy the deep lace of her 
skirts. The only color about Beth was in her cheeks, 
her dilated blue eyes, her flying golden hair, for this 
Frieda had crowned with an immense white bow, the 
climax and queen of all preceding bows. 

“ Well, I look exactly, just exactly like the loveliest 
dressed girl in Miss Tappan’s fashion books,” said 
Beth, surveying herself in a sort of delirium. “ I wish, 
I do wish that Janie Little could see me ! But what 
on earth do girls wear here at parties, Frieda ? ” 

“ Dancing class, where you meet all the young ladies 
you know. Miss Beth, has to be dressed for much the 
same,” said Frieda. “ This is only what a quite young 
young lady like you must wear ; just fine white things.” 

“Then do let me hurry to see Natalie and Alys,” 
cried Beth. 

Frieda wrapped Beth in a long, loose cloak and she 
found Natalie and Alys’s splendors similarly eclipsed 
when she came out and met them in the hall. At the 
dancing school she forgot to notice what they wore, 
but she saw that Alys had never before been so pretty, 
and Natalie was as handsome as a tanager. 

The room was full of girls, all so exquisite in tints of 
hair, eyes, cheeks and clothes that Beth forgot her own 
white daintiness. 

“ It is only more fairy-land,” she thought. “ Aunt 
Alida was right ; she had to make me a fairy, too, or 
they'd have driven me back to mortals.” 


ALL SOETS OF NEW STEPS 


81 


Natalie and Alys introduced Beth to girl after girl, 
brought boys to her and introduced them also, and, 
worst of all, took Beth to ladies who were sitting 
about the room and introduced her to them as their 
cousin who was spending the winter with them. 

Beth grew so confused that she hardly knew how to 
carry herself. 

“ I know you hate it, Bethie, but they are mama’s 
friends and she would like it ; besides, if there are any 
children’s parties this winter — and there will be — you 
must be asked,” whispered Natalie. “Now you go 
into the practice class for beginners, and when the 
time comes to dance Alys and I will dance with you, 
to start you. Then you must accept every invitation 
you get to dance ; it’s polite and practice, too.” 

Bewildered Beth found herself in a line with much 
smaller children taking steps forward, back, to the 
right, to the left, following the tireless motions of a 
small man who set the children example in front of 
the line, gesticulating to mark time, and moving so 
lightly that Beth wondered if he had the usual sort of 
feet. 

The music to which the class danced was rendered 
by a beautiful piano, violin and flute trio. After she 
grew accustomed to being where she was, Beth began 
to hear it better, and, hearing it, she lost consciousness 
of herself, and danced. The girls’ teaching had been 
good; followed now by the winging effect of the 
entrancing music it took Beth out of the awkwardness 
of beginning. When the line stopped practice and the 


82 BETH’S WONDEB-WINTEE 

teacher gave the signal to dance Natalie and Alys flew 
to Beth. 

« "VVe’re proud of you, Beth ! ” cried Natalie. “You’re 
going to make a dancer ! You quiet little mouse, who’d 
have thought you’d have done so well ! ” 

“ I don’t know. Hurry up, Natalie, let me dance ! ” 
cried Beth with sparkling eyes. 

She danced and danced, not always well, because 
there were ever so many dances that she did not know, 
but with an enjoyment that made her partners forgive 
her mistakes. She never actually danced badly, be- 
cause her ear for rhythm carried her through. 

Celie, who had come with the children, wrapped 
Beth up at last to go home. She was flushed and 
trembling with delight ; her white slippers tapped the 
floor and she pranced to the music echoing in her 
brain. 

“ Oh, I was always sorry for Cinderella when the 
clock struck twelve, but I never knew how awful it 
was for her! I don’t want to go home; I want to 
dance and dance and dance ! ” she cried. 

“ You shall, but not all at once, Beth ! ” laughed 
Natalie. She found herself growing as fond of this 
enthusiastic little cousin as if she were Beth’s elder 
sister. 

Beth lay back in the corner of the carriage, then sat 
upright, and ended by tumbling over into Natalie’s lap 
as they drove home. The November air was sharp, 
with the hint of snow in it, but it was June and rose- 
time to Beth in that carriage. 


ALL SOETS OP NEW STEPS 


83 


“ I’m so happy, Natalie ! ” she cried. “ It’s so lovely 
in New York, you can’t think unless you haven’t 
always been here! And it’s so nice to drive in this 
dear carriage and look so pretty, and have all those 
lovely other fairy girls dancing all around you ! Isn’t 
it a queer thing that fairy stories aren’t half as nice, 
not near half as nice as what is true ? ” 


CHAPTEK YI 


“the island day” 

“ TF you don’t feel like going to church you may say 

JL so, Beth,” said Mr. Cortlandt at the breakfast 
table. 

“ Oh, I do ! ” cried Beth. “ I love to go to church. 
I like so very much to sing hymns. Sometimes I wish 
we could have hymns instead of a sermon, but Aunt 
Kebecca says that’s all wrong. Of course you don’t 
mind some sermons, but I do get crawly-creeps all over 
sometimes, when they last dreadfully long and are all 
about places and people with hard names. That kind 
always end up : ‘You will see from this, my brethren,’ 
but I don’t see a thing from it, usually.” 

Uncle Jim laughed his merry laugh and Beth laughed, 
too. 

“Ever3d;hing is so different here, I suppose church 
won’t be the same, either,” she said. 

“Well, we’ll try it, if you’re so disposed. Miss Bris- 
tead,” said Uncle Jim. 

“ Come up-stairs, Beth ; we must get ready,” said 
Katalie, glancing at the clock as it chimed a happy lit- 
tle air, and then struck ten soft notes. 

“ Must I change my dress ? ” asked Beth glancing 
84 


“ THE ISLAND DAY 85 

downward at the soft blue cloth that was far prettier 
than her Sunday gown at home. 

“ Dear me, yes ! ” said Alys. “ Why, that’s a morn- 
ing house dress. You must wear your suit, Beth ; not 
the long coat which you’d have to wear over this.” 

“ I wish we could have a Pilgrim party to church ; 
I’d like to wear my Indian blanket there,” muttered 
Dirk wrathfully, with a presentiment of the discomfort 
of his coming starched collar. 

Frieda made Beth proper in her blue suit, with its 
underlying hint of gray. Aunt Alida, artistically study- 
ing Beth’s eyes, had chosen blue in Beth’s new outfit 
wherever she could, but there were so many shades and 
kinds of the color that Beth wondered. Here was the 
blue of the sky in April, with a drooping hat of a lighter 
shade of the same blue, with long loops of ribbon velvet 
of a much darker shade, and a soft bunch of ostrich tips, 
like the ribbon, in the front. Beth saw that it was 
most becoming to her. She turned away from a long 
survey of the effect with a laugh and a blush. 

“It is nice to be pretty, Frieda,” she said frankly. 
“ I never was before, and I sha’n’t be when I go home, 
but while it lasts it is about the nicest thing in the 
world to be pretty.” 

“ You ought not to talk that way to Frieda, so con- 
fidingly, Beth,” Alys rebuked her as they went to the 
elevator. 

“Oh, Frieda knows ; she saw the things Miss Tappan 
made for me, and she knows,” said Beth lightly. She 
was too content to mind what Alys thought, suddenly 


86 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


feeling perfectly sure of herself. “ I think it’s silly to 
try to cover up anyway, Alys. People always see 
through you,” she added. 

Natalie laughed. “You’re a funny little thing, 
Beth,” she said. “ Sometimes you seem about seven 
years old, and then you say something as old as sixteen 
— like that.” 

“ It’s because I’ve always been a good deal by myself. 
I think when you don’t know many girls you keep lit- 
tle, yet then older people make you old, only differ- 
ently,” explained Beth, with correct understanding of 
her own case but not the clearest way of stating it. 

She looked at Natalie, glowing in her brown cloth, 
with the tawny touch of red in her hat, and her soft 
brown furs, at Alys in sage green with her white hat 
and its green plumes, then she looked again at her own 
blue figure in the elevator mirrors. Aunt Alida was 
better than a fairy godmother; she certainly knew 
how to dress her girls. 

In the hall below they found Dirk awaiting them, 
the image of Sunday correctness, brushed and shining 
in his dark clothes with his bright scarf, and an inno- 
cent look of peace on his round face that entirely mis- 
represented his state of mind. 

The carriage was waiting and they heard Mr. Cort- 
landt hurrying his wife for the horses’ sake ; the wind 
was sharp. Pretty Aunt Alida came down the stairs 
all in soft gray, gown, coat, hat and furs. She swayed 
in a flower-like way as she walked ; Beth thought there 
never was such a lovely creature. She thought it so 


'‘THE ISLAND DAY»» 


87 


earnestly that her eyes declared her thought, and her 
Aunt Alida stooped to kiss her. 

“We all look beautiful,” Beth said as her uncle came 
down also, in the dignity of long coat, gray gloves and 
gray tie. He threatened Beth with his silk hat. 

“ Get out with you, you base flatterer ! ” he cried, 
driving her before him down the steps. 

The three girls sat opposite to Mrs. Cortlandt and her 
husband, Dirk between his father and mother. 

“We shall have to get a three-seated family coach if 
these young women grow any larger,” said Mr. Cort- 
landt as the footman shut the door, and the horses be- 
gan to move at an unwillingly decorous pace down the 
avenue. 

It was a bright and beautiful avenue, alive with 
churchgoers, driving and afoot, and with gay turn- 
outs on their way to the park, on pleasure bent. 

“You have not seen the park yet, Beth, nor the 
museums, nor Eiverside Drive — you haven’t begun to 
have a good time yet,” cried Natalie, remembering how 
much there would be to show Beth. 

“ I should think I had begun to have a good time ! ” 
said Beth. “ I began the moment I started for here 
with Anna Mary.” 

It was not far to the church, not much over half a 
mile ; Beth wondered why they had not walked to it. 
It was a great stone building ; into its threefold entrance 
on the avenue a stream of beautifully dressed people 
was flowing. Beth fell back with Natalie to enter in 
the wake of her aunt and uncle and Alys and Dirk. 


88 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


A shadowed beauty awed the child as she passed in. 
Soft light from the rose window over the door and from 
the long stained glass windows all along the body of 
the church seemed to Beth to be part of the soft har- 
monies with which the great organ bore them down the 
long avenue of the dim aisle. 

Dirk contrived to be first in the pew, at the head of 
which Mr. Cortland t halted to admit his family. Beth 
came next, then Alys, Natalie, with Mrs. Cortlandt next 
to her husband at the end. Instead of the pulpit at 
which Beth was accustomed to look up, with its table 
below it and its high backed chairs fianking it, here was 
a beautiful altar, flower burdened, backed by a window 
through which the light fell as if heaven were but 
dimly veiled. There were noble carved stalls in row 
upon row within the inclosure of a rail before the altar, 
their dark wood contrasting perfectly with the gold 
and bronze-touched wall of strong, rich coloring. 

Was this indeed a church ? the little visitor won- 
dered. It was no more like the Centre Church to 
which she had trudged beside Aunt Rebecca all her 
short life than Uncle Jim’s palace of a house was like 
Aunt Rebecca’s brown clapboarded house. Beth did 
not dare think of fairies as at work on a church ; it 
must be that their work was supplemented by angels 
here, but it was all one in its dream-like beauty with 
the fairy-land in which she was dwelling this wonder- 
winter. 

They were in good time for Beth to see all this be- 
fore the service, but hardly had she taken it in than she 


''THE ISLAND DAY>^ 


89 


heard the sound of singing, faint, yet clear and sweet, 
like a thread of sound dropped down from heaven to 
earth. It scarcely surprised Beth that she should hear 
the angels singing, since the miraculous was now her 
daily experience, but she held her breath to lose nothing 
of their strains, and the tears sprang to her eyes for the 
joy of it. 

Then the congregation arose with a surge of silken 
garments, doors at the head of the side aisle swung 
open, the music swelled into a full burst of melody with 
articulate words, and a stream of white-robed little 
boys, larger boys, big boys and men, filed into the 
church, singing, singing as Beth had never heard any 
one sing before. She could not remember to be dis- 
appointed that these were the voices of men, and not 
of angels, so heavenly beautiful was their singing. 
On they came, the wee boys holding a hymn-book that 
looked too heavy for their chubby hands, raising their 
soft eyebrows into acute angles in the earnestness of 
their efforts, with pure, clear child voices singing 
marvelously. Then there came a boy walking alone, 
a boy about as old as Beth. His voice soared up and 
up, high above all the others, singing deliciously, so 
sweet, so touchingly sweet, that not only Beth’s but 
many older eyes were wet with the emotion its sweet- 
ness called forth. Then the lovely boy altos streamed 
by ; then the tenors and the basses of the men, holding 
up the children’s voices as the stone columns of the 
church held up its vaulted roof. Behind their chor- 
isters came the clergymen, robed also, and solemn, and 


90 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTER 


the service began. Beth could not follow it, but she 
listened to the musical reading, the chanting, the bursts 
of responsive chanting from the choristers, who had 
ranged themselves in the dark carved stalls on each 
side of the altar. 

No chance here for a little girl to sing her beloved 
hymns, but Beth could not regret it, for here was music 
that left no room for regret, nor wishing. 

The sermon was short, too, and one that Beth under- 
stood and liked. She thought that the service was not 
going to be long enough, but Dirk evidently was not 
agreeing with her. Beth felt him fidgeting at her side, 
and at last she received a pinch that made her jump 
and barely keep from crying out. She turned red with 
pain- and anger, and threw Dirk a look of such hurt re- 
proach that he reddened in his turn, looking as ashamed 
as he properly should have been. 

“Just for fun," he whispered by way of apology, but 
Beth shook her head hard. Dirk understood that she 
meant that a pinch that hurt as that one did was not 
her idea of fun anywhere, least of all in church. 

When the service was over once more the congrega- 
tion arose with the rustle of silks and waves of per- 
fume, and the choristers went away as they had come, 
white garments swaying as they sang and sang, the 
sound dying away in the distance into silence with a 
far-off “ Amen," as it had grown out of that silence 
and had swelled into beauty in their coming. 

With a sigh that it was all over, Beth turned to 
follow her cousins out of the pew. Alys was im- 


‘‘THE ISLAND DAY’» 


91 


mediately before her, and as she started to step into the 
aisle, she tripped and almost fell. She turned furiously 
upon Dirk, who was that moment pressing past Beth in 
his haste to get out. Alys’s face was crimson, her eyes 
blazed with anger, she raised her hand, but, remember- 
ing where she was, dropped it again and continued her 
way out of the church in a towering rage. 

“ We are going to walk home, lassies,” announced 
Mr. Cortlandt over his shoulder to his daughters and 
his niece. Beth was glad of this. The sun had 
brightened while they were in church, and the avenue 
was filled with two streams of story-book people, 
beautifully dressed, gay, prosperous-looking, handsome. 
It was a joy to Beth to be one of the children who 
were part of the crowd, moving visions, surpassing the 
loveliest in Miss Tappan’s books in the far-off, humdrum 
days. 

When they had reached home and Beth came run- 
ning down-stairs after she had laid off coat and hat, 
she found her aunt looking troubled and her uncle 
talking sternly to Dirk in the library. 

“ You shall certainly be punished, sir,” he said. “ If 
it is amusing to you to trip up your sister you must be 
taught not to amuse yourself. Fancy Alys almost 
falling in church because a great boy of ten tripped 
her ! ” 

Dirk looked sullen; his face was dark red; he 
frowned fearfully. Beth knew in an instant that Alys 
had thought that Dirk had been responsible for her 
accident in leaving the pew, and had complained to her 


92 


BETH’S WOKDER-WIKTEB 


father that her brother might be punished. In the 
little time that she had been in this household Beth had 
discovered that her uncle took a hopeless view of Dirk, 
and was ready to believe him guilty whenever he was 
accused, on the general ground of past experience. 

“ Oh, Uncle Jim ! ” she cried, “ Dirk isn’t to blame 
for Alys’s tripping ! I know exactly what he was do- 
ing, and he didn’t have a thing to do with that, truly.” 

“ Then what did I trip on ? ” demanded Alys, who 
had been enjoying Dirk’s discomfiture. 

“ I don’t know, Alys, but Dirk didn’t do one single 
thing to you. He was — he was right behind me, and I 
know,” cried Beth. She did not say that Dirk was 
pinching her again, but this was the case. 

“ Why didn’t you say so, Dirk ? ” demanded his 
father. 

“ What’s the use ? ” sulked Dirk. 

“ I shouldn’t think you’d take his part, Beth ; he 
hasn’t been very nice to you since you came,” said 
Alys. 

‘‘ Well, I suppose he doesn’t like me ; everybody 
can’t like everybody — every other body, I mean,” said 
Beth. “ I don’t think that has anything to do with 
what’s fair. And I do know Dirk didn’t trip you.” 

“ That’s the right spirit. Lady Beth ! ” cried Mr. 
Cortlandt heartily, as Mrs. Cortland t said : 

“ Oh, I’m glad, little son, you weren’t unkind to your 
sister ! ” 

“ I beg your pardon, Dirk, for pitching into you 
without hearing your side first,” said Mr. Cortlandt, 


'‘THE ISLAND DAY’> 


93 


speaking as one man speaks to another. “ Shake hands, 
Dirk.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right ; I don’t mind. I did some- 
thing else,” muttered Dirk giving his father a limp lit- 
tle hand. 

After dinner he came upon Beth alone in the library. 

“ Say, you’re all right,” he began in some embarrass- 
ment. “ I ain’t going to forget what you did.” 

“ Well, you didn’t trip up Alys,” said Beth. 

“No, but I pinched you like fury in church, and I 
was pinching you when she slipped up. I guess most 
girls would have let me take what was coming to me, 
and be glad I got it. I won’t bother you any more ; I 
wish you were my sister and Alys was my cousin. I 
ain’t going to forget it, Beth Bristead, and if you want 
anything any time, say so,” said Dirk. 

“ I want something now,” said Beth with a little 
laugh. “ I want you to show you’re nice, instead of 
trying to make everybody think you’re horrid.” 

“ Oh, come off ! ” said Dirk much embarrassed, but 
inwardly pleased. “ I guess I ain’t going to pretend.” 

“All right, then it’s a bargain,” Beth triumphed. 
“ And I’m glad it all happened, because that’s exactly 
what you do every minute — pretend you’re a rude, dis- 
agreeable boy, and I know better ! I’m awfully glad 
you’ll stop pretending, Dirk ! ” 

“ Oh, say ! ” exclaimed Dirk. But he grinned, for 
there was no denying that Beth had the best of him. 

Natalie and Alys came into the room. “Now we’re 
going to show you the house, Beth,” Natalie announced. 


94 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“ You’ve seen this library and the dining-room, and 
that’s all you have seen, down-stairs. On this side of 
the hall is the drawing-room.” Natalie threw open 
the door as she spoke, and Beth cried out delightedly. 

The floor, inlaid in beautiful woods, was partly 
covered with rugs of the finest colors and textures — be- 
fore the fireplace lay a great tiger skin. The walls were 
hung with silken tapestries of green and silver, the 
furniture “ did not match,” Beth noticed in surprise ; 
there was gold, dull enough to accord with the silver ; 
there was white, and there were rare woods, and there 
were cushions and upholstering of the same green as 
the walls and of darker shades of the same tone. Beth 
did not know why it was such a beautiful room. She 
did know that she had never seen one so splendid. 

“ This is the conservatory,” said Alys, leading the 
way. And there off the drawing-room, Beth found 
herself “ knee deep in June,” in a conservatory filled 
with bloom and with the green of the tropics, its damp, 
rose-scented air seeming, most of all that Beth had seen 
in this wonder house, the work of fairies on this chill 
November day. 

‘‘ This is father’s billiard room,” said Dirk who had 
followed the girls. 

“ Beth won’t care for that,” said Alys. “ This is the 
music room. We’ve come around a square ; that door 
across there leads back into the library.” 

The music room was vaulted, finished in dark woods, 
paneled from floor to ceiling. One end of it was occu- 
pied by a great organ, built into the wall ; a piano, 


''THE ISLAND DAY'' 


95 


harp and several small instruments rested against the 
walls at intervals. 

“ Can you play them all ? ” gasped Beth, wide-eyed 
with awe. 

Natalie laughed. “ No, indeed, but mama gives 
musicales in the winter, and she has people come who 
can play them. This is the picture gallery.” 

" All these ? ” murmured Beth vaguely. 

This was a long room, its walls covered with green ; 
a railing ran around it three or four feet from the wall. 
Pictures and still more pictures hung from floor to 
ceiling against these walls, and rare marbles and 
bronzes stood on pedestals in spaces built for them 
against heavy draperies that threw into relief their 
perfect loveliness, their glorious strength. Beth did 
not know that her uncle’s collection of paintings and 
sculpture was famous in the city, but she dimly under- 
stood that here was a world of beauty whose existence 
she had never guessed. 

“ Oh, me,” she sighed gratefully, " what a lot of 
things there are to know, and what a happy world it is ! ” 

" Mama will tell you about the pictures some day,” 
said Natalie. " Father will, if he finds you can learn 
to love them. He doesn’t like to waste time on people 
who never could care for them. Now come up-stairs 
and see the ballroom. That is built out over all these 
rooms, the music room, the billiard room and this 
gallery. 

“ Turn on the lights, Alys ; it is getting dusky, and 
anyway this room is best by electricity,” said Natalie 


96 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


as they paused in the great arched doorway of a room 
so big, so splendid that this time Beth could not so 
much as breathe as she looked down its great length. 
It was a room all white and gold as to walls ; its 
high paneled ceiling was painted with a design of flow- 
ers and long, eddying links of Greek maidens in float- 
ing draperies and happy children and birds flying ; the 
painted poem of beautiful motion. Against the doors 
and windows hung cui*tains of deep-hued golden silk 
and velvet ; the polished floor reflected the countless 
lights that flashed from the cut-glass chandeliers. At 
one end of the room was a screened balcony for musi- 
cians and around it at intervals were deep recessed 
niches, resting places for dancers, while luxurious and 
curious seats stood about, to offer hospitality to on- 
lookers. There were galleries for like purpose on 
three sides of the room. 

“ Do you use it ? ” asked Beth in a whisper. 

“We haven’t had anything here for two winters,” 
said Natalie. “ Mama says we may dance here Thanks- 
giving night, when we have the costume party. When 
I come out — just think, it will be in three years, Beth ! 
— we are going to have a ball that is going to be a dream. 
You can be planning your gown till it comes off, Beth.” 

“ I shall be at home then,” said Beth wistfully. 

“Well, I rather think you will be here!” declared 
Natalie. “ Now we’ve found you we aren’t going to 
lose you, little cousin, and you will be at my coming- 
out party, even if you aren’t old enough to be out 
yourself.” 


''THE ISLAND DAY^^ 


97 


“ We’d better leave the gymnasium till another time,” 
said Alys. “ Beth has seen all there is now, except the 
rooms in the basement, and the gymnasium.” 

“ Do you suppose there is another house in New York 
as splendid as this one *? ” asked Beth overcome by the 
wonders displayed to her. 

“ Oh, yes ; finer,” said Natalie. " But there are a 
good many not so fine.” 

“I don’t see, Natalie, how you can ever be good 
enough,” said Beth solemnly. 

Alys laughed, but Natalie said : “ Sometimes I feel 
that, too, Beth. I hope I can use it all as I ought. 
Mama tries to have us remember we’ve got to do a 
great deal more than just enjoy our wealth. It is hard 
not to forget, and take it all just as Jack Horner took 
the plum.” 

“ Off in a corner and thinking how good he was ! ” 
cried Beth quickly. “You won’t be that kind, 
Natalie ! ” 

“ Do you like my house, Beth ? ” asked Mr. Cort- 
landt when Beth came alone into the library after her 
tour to find him, sitting with a book laid face upon his 
knee, looking into the fire. 

'‘It is like Jerusalem the Golden,” said Beth seri- 
ously. “ ‘ I know not, oh, I know not what joys await 
me there.’ There’s no palace in all the stories I ever 
read half so wonderful. Uncle Jim ! I can’t think I’m 
really seeing.” 

“You look like your mother, Beth,” said her uncle 
unexpectedly, as he watched the earnest little face. 


98 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


“ No one ever told me about her, Uncle Jim,” said 
Beth coming over to perch on his knee as a matter of 
course. ‘‘Will you tell me about her, please? It 
would be nice for Sunday night.” 

“ There are two lines of Jean Ingelow's that I always 
think of when I think of her,” said Uncle Jim. 

“ ‘ A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 
Than my son's wife, Elizabeth.' 

Only she was my sister and not an Elizabeth. Do you 
like Sunday night, little Beth?” asked her uncle 
stroking her soft cheek. 

“ Oh, yes,” said Beth. “ I think Sunday is like an 
island day, with all the other days rolling around it, 
like waves, while it is all still and peaceful. This has 
been a dear Sunday, Uncle Jim. Will you tell me 
more about my mother, more than those lovely lines, 
please ? ” 

“Yes. Put your head on my shoulder and I will 
tell you about her,” said Beth’s uncle. “ I loved her 
dearly, dearly, and so did every one else.” 

They talked for a long time in the gathering dark- 
ness, lighted only by the flames of the wood-fire, leap- 
ing and falling in the sombre beauty of the library. 
Here Mrs. Cortlandt found them when she came down- 
stairs later, both of them pensively happy in the memory 
of Beth’s sweet mother, whom she had never known. 


CHAPTEE YII 


PILGRIMS AISTD STRANGERS 



‘HE next morning Beth opened her eyes upon a 


X chill gray world. She jumped out of bed and 
into her cuddly bedroom slippers and drew aside her 
window curtains. The asphalt pavement seemed to 
have spread out and up over the whole sky ; air, clouds, 
people and city walls looked of a piece and a color with 
the hard iron-gray road, giving the avenue the effect of 
an asphalt tube, bottom, sides and top alike. Snow- 
flakes drifted through the air as if they did not half 
like it and found it too bleak to call down their com- 
rades to make a cheerful snow-storm. 

Beth remembered that it was Monday morning and 
that Aunt Eebecca and Ella Lowndes had deep-seated 
objections to bad weather on washing day, “ because it 
made the whole week crooked.” She hoped that the 
sun was shining in Massachusetts, and her heart leaped 
joyously as she realized that she was in fairy-land-come- 
true, where there were no washing days with their 
hurried, light dinners, but where the sun always shone, 
no matter what was the weather. Her feet in their 
fleecy blue slippers danced a few steps until the lavish 
blue satin bows on the slippers waved blithely, and she 
hurried to begin dressing, meaning to surprise Frieda 
when she came by being nearly ready. 


99 


100 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


There was to be a holiday from lessons for the Cort- 
landt children because it was Thanksgiving week. 
Alys said “ that was a good way to make sure they 
were thankful.” 

After breakfast Beth found herself alone, and she 
wandered into the conservatory. Entering it was to 
leave November far behind, to breathe the warm, soft 
dampness of the southern midsummer. Beth closed 
the door behind her and stood still, delicately and 
ecstatically sniffing the fragrant air. 

“ It’s just Like a hymn,” said Beth, folding her hands 
with a sense of reverence and lifting her happy little 
face higher as she spoke aloud after the fashion of her 
solitary play days. “ It’s like : 

‘ What though the spicy breezes 
Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle. 

Though every prospect pleases. 

And only man is vile ’ — 

Mercy, no ! It isn’t like that last part one bit, for 
Uncle Jim isn’t any more vile than — than nothing at 
all — than those white carnations over there! I love 
him with all my heart and soul ! I guess it’s more 
like: 

‘ And Sharon waves, in solemn praise 
Her silent groves of palm,’ 

because there are whole rows of palms over there. 
Well, at any rate, I just wish Janie Little could smell 


PILGRIMS AND STRANGERS 


101 


these flowers. Janie loves nice smells so ! She thinks 
smelling a peppermint stick is ’most as good as sucking 
it. I don’t, but I’d rather smell all these flowers mixed 
up than pick them. And those birds ! I wonder who 
feeds them.” 

‘‘ I do, my dear,” said a voice, and Beth faced about 
with a jump to see Mrs. Hodgman. 

“ Do you take care of all of them ? Good-morning, 
Mrs. Hodgman,” said Beth. 

The housekeeper laughed. “ Good-morning, Beth,” 
she said. “ I have one of the maids, or sometimes the 
gardener here to help me take down the cages, but I 
give the little creatures their baths and food — it’s such 
a pleasure to do it, and they all know me.” 

She whistled a low note and the canaries nearest her, 
of the fifty that hung in the conservatory, fluttered to 
the bars of their cages and answered her, with their 
heads inquiringly tilted to see what Mrs. Hodgman had 
for them. 

“ Oh, I should think it would be a pleasure ! ” cried 
Beth rapturously. “ It makes you feel as if you would 
write poetry to be in this warm, soft, flowery place 
with all those birds hopping and singing, doesn’t it ? I 
feel as if poetry would just burst right out — only it 
doesn’t ! Do you call the man who grows flowers in a 
greenhouse a gardener ? I was wondering what you 
would call him.” 

“ The man who has charge of this conservatory is the 
gardener transferred from Mr. Cortlandt’s country 
house, otherwise we might call him the florist,” said 


102 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


Mrs. Hodgman. “]S[ow, my dear, I must leave you, 
for Mrs. Cortlandt gives a small dinner to-night, and I 
have much to look after this morning.” 

“ Do you think I may stay here a while, all alone 
with the birds, and would you mind not telling any one 
I was here ? Because I should like very much to play 
something. It would be that I was a kind of enchant- 
ress who could turn a bare day like this into a summer 
day on a magic island, and all these birds and flowers 
would be under the spell, obey me, you see, and I’d play 
they all knew me and were bright and beautiful — as they 
truly are — but nobody could see them, or get on the is- 
land unless I touched them with my wand, and I never 
touched any one unless they had done something lovely 
and kind to earn the touch,” explained Beth, feeling 
that she owed Mrs. Hodgman the explanation if she 
asked to be left alone by her. “ I could play it better 
if I knew no one knew where I was ; it makes it more 
like a secret, invisible island.” 

“ Bless you, little Beth, you may stay here as long as 
you like, and play all the pretty fancies you can fash- 
ion,” said Mrs. Hodgman heartily, kissing the round, 
soft cheek turned up to her. Then she hurried away, 
leaving Beth to a glorious kingdom of fact and fancy. 

This was why no one could tell Beth’s Aunt Alida 
where the little girl was when she wanted her an hour 
later, for Mrs. Hodgman had gone out and nobody else 
had seen her. The household had begun to get excited 
when Mrs. Cortlandt remembered that nobody had 
looked in the conservatory for Beth, and she hurried 


PILGEIMS AND STRANGEES 103 

down herself to try this last hope of finding the child in 
the house. 

As she opened the door Beth’s happy face met her 
eyes, flushed with the warmth of the conservatory and 
her interest in her fascinating game. She looked so 
rapt that Mrs. Cortlandt forgot that she had been 
anxious about her and cried out : 

“ Why, you funny little Bethie ! What are you 
doing here by your serene self, and why do you look as 
if you were floating on little pink clouds, child ? ” 

“ I’ve been having such a lovely time. Aunt Alida ! ” 
said Beth, coming down to facts by an effort. “ I’ve 
been playing this was a magic island. It’s wonderful 
to play things right in the middle of things more fairy 
than your play is I To have all these birds and flowers 
true when it’s so cold and snowy ! Aunt Alida, your 
real fairy-land is nicer than book fairy-land ! ” 

“ Dear little girl, the best of all is to have the eyes 
that see fairy-land anywhere,” said Aunt Alida, kissing 
Beth just as Mrs. Hodgman had kissed her. 

Beth had never been kissed in all her life as much as 
she had been since she had come to New York, Aunt 
Rebecca not being prone to kisses, but she liked it very 
much and responded with a warmth that showed she 
was learning how to show the love that filled her heart. 

“ I’ve been looking for you, Beth,” Aunt Alida said, 
“ because we have important matters to decide, you and 
I. You know that our costume party is almost begin- 
ning — Thursday is Thanksgiving day — and we have 
nothing ready for you to wear. I think I shall make 


104 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEB 


you into nothing more alarming than a little Puritan 
maiden, Bethie. The kerchief and cap will suit your 
serious little face. Will it also suit your serious little 
taste, dear ? ” 

Beth laughed. “ I don’t know what it will be like. 
Aunt Alida, but you know what’s nice for me. I’m 
afraid to go to your party. Aunt Alida ; I’m afraid of 
people I don’t know.” 

“ Nonsense, Beth ! Y ou will know these boys and girls 
when you’ve met them, so who will there be to fear ? 
Alys is to wear a stiff brocade, copied after an old 
portrait of a Cortlandt of the early 1700’s ; we think 
Alys will rather suit the stiff old gown. And — here’s 
a secret, Beth ! Natalie is to be a young and pretty 
witch, all in crimson, with a black bodice. And we are 
going to have a dance which Natalie is to lead alone, all 
the others following her. The dance will represent the 
hunting of a witch in the foolish, cruel old days. Do 
you think that is a fine idea, little niece ? I’m proud of 
it, for it is my own.” 

“ Oh, yes,” breathed Beth, bewildered but impressed. 

“ Then come along, Bethie, and try on your costume,” 
cried Aunt Alida triumphantly. “ I ordered it several 
days ago and the dressmaker has sent a woman to try it 
on ; she is waiting in your room. You can’t imagine 
what fun it is to have three big-little girls to gown for 
a costume party ! It’s like having one’s dolls come 
back a thousand times nicer than they used to be.” 

She tucked Beth’s hand under her arm and hurried 
her to the elevator and up to her room. A woman 


PILGRIMS AND STRANGERS 


105 


arose as they entered, holding in her hands a soft gray- 
blue silken gown, straight and full as to skirt, long and 
plain as to waist, with delicate muslin sleeves appearing 
under the silken ones, and a soft muslin kerchief swing- 
ing from its shoulders, ready to be crossed over Beth’s 
palpitating heart. Surely she had been mistaken in 
thinking this a dull, dreary day, Beth said to herself, 
and surely the land of magic was not imaginary, nor 
bounded by the glass walls of the conservatory ! 

“ Hallo, Priscilla ! ” called a gay voice, and Beth 
turned to see Natalie’s eyes dancing at her from out the 
folds of the portiere between her cousin’s dressing room 
and her own. “ You can’t see me, but I can see you ! ” 
laughed Natalie. “ You’re not to see me until the great 
day — you dear little Priscilla ! You’re too sweet to be 
real. Bethie, I’d come and hug you and find out if you 
were real, only I can’t without showing you my gown.” 

“ I’m real,” said Beth. “ I look like a picture in the 
glass, but pictures can’t curtsey, Natalie. Look ! ” She 
took her soft gown on each side between a thumb and 
forefinger and curtsied solemnly and low. Her face 
was all rosy pink and her eyes shining with delight. 
“ If only Aunt Rebecca could see me ! ” she sighed. 
“ She loves our Puritan ancestors so, and she’d never 
believe how I look.” 

‘‘ She shall see you ! ” cried Aunt Alida. “ I’ll tell 
you what we’ll do, Bethie. We’ll have a miniature of 
you painted on ivory, just as you look this moment, and 
we’ll send it to your Aunt Rebecca for Christmas ! No 
photograph could do justice to those soft tints.” 


106 


BETH’S WONDER- WIOTEE 


“ Painted ? Of me ? ” gasped Beth. “ Aunt Re- 
becca has a miniature; she says it’s her grandfather 
Bowen’s second wife ; she was a Southerner. It’s per- 
fectly lovely. Aunt Alida, I’ll have to stop talking to 
you, because I can’t say new things when you do new 
things ! Only I’m most sure Aunt Rebecca will say 
it’s ministering to my vanity to have my picture 
painted ; she always was afraid Miss Tappan would 
make me vain if she trimmed my dresses much — she al- 
ways told her not to minister to my vanity. But Miss 
Tappan doesn’t know how to make people look fine 
enough to be really vain — you do, Aunt Alida ! Still, 
I don’t feel spoiled ; I just feel — happy ! ” 

Once more Aunt Alida kissed Beth, and the little girl 
felt sure that the dressmaker’s woman gave her hair a 
slight caress as she took off the lovable Puritan gown 
to which Beth had lost her heart completely. 

On the great night of what Beth liked to call in her 
thoughts “her first ball,” Thanksgiving night, Beth 
stood before the mirror in her beautiful blue room 
while Frieda fastened the silvery blue gown that fell to 
Beth’s slippered feet, and laid over her shoulders the 
soft white fichu, and fastened on her flowing hair the 
tiny lace cap that added the last touch and turned Beth 
into something between her own ancestress and a great 
doll. 

“Oh, oh, oh!” gasped Beth. “I don’t see how 
they ever let the Puritans leave England if they 
wore such things ! Isn’t it the dearest, be-eau-ti- 
fulest gown, Frieda ? Come in,” she added in reply 


PILGRIMS AND STRANGERS 


107 


to a knock, and Anna Mary presented herself in the 
doorway. 

“ Mrs. Cortlandt sent me up to make sure everything 
was as it should be,” she said. “ Frieda, have you that 
bit of a cap fastened strong? With Miss Beth’s hair 
fly in’ like the corn silk that bit of a fairy gossamer 
thing will get away from it like a cobweb on the grass 
of a May morning. Just a taste more of fold in that 
lace fish-u,” added Anna Mary bringing the lace closer 
around Beth’s round throat and pronouncing the sylla- 
bles carefully. “What do you represent now, Miss 
Beth ? It looks ancient.” 

“ I’m Priscilla Alden,” said Beth proudly. “ I’ll tell 
you,” she went on as Anna Mary knelt to sew a little 
tuck under the broad tuck of Beth’s skirt in a spot 
where it was too long. “ Priscilla was so lovely that 
Captain Miles Standish loved her, but he didn’t dare 
say so, so he sent John Alden — he was a nice young 
man near Priscilla’s age — to ask her to marry him, but 
Priscilla saw John liked her himself, so she asked him 
why he didn’t ‘ speak for yourself, John,’ and I suppose 
he did, because they were married.” 

“ Now it hangs straight,” said Anna Mary, bending 
down to bite off her thread and coming up so purple in 
the face that Beth felt apologetic. “ And that’s a 
foolish story. Miss Beth, if you don’t mind my say in’ 
so. There’s no captain I’ve ever seen at home in Ire- 
land — and I’ve seen plenty — would be sendin’ a boy to 
do his wooin’ for him. Let me look how Frieda’s got 
it in the back, that fish-u.” 


108 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEB 


“ It’s a lovely story, Anna Mary ; I must have told 
it bad Oh, oh, oh, Natalie ! Just look at Nat- 

alie ! ” screamed Beth, forgetting all about the Pilgrim 
lovers as Natalie appeared in the doorway, holding 
back the portiere. All in crimson and black was Nat- 
alie, short skirt, high heeled shoes, pointed hat, black 
and crimson, with a crimson satin cloak floating from one 
shoulder. She was so brilliant of color, so radiantly hand- 
some that the two maids shared Beth’s enthusiasm. 

“ Sure they never hung such witches. Miss Natalie ! ” 
cried Anna Mary. 

Alys followed her sister. Beth and the maids were 
not able to appreciate the perfection of her copy of an 
old portrait in brocades and laces, still they saw that 
Alys’s gown was most beautiful. But Natalie’s glori- 
ous dark beauty in the witch costume of shining red 
silk swept everything before it. 

“We must hurry down, if you’re ready, little cousin,” 
said Natalie, and Beth found herself descending to the 
lower floor in the small elevator in the wonderful com- 
pany of a great lady of the seventeenth century and 
such a witch as Anna Mary truly said had never been 
hung on Boston Common. 

Aunt Alida came to meet them. “ You dear, satis- 
factory trio ! ” she cried. “ If you’ll have as good a 
time as you look — dear me ! That’s a queer sentence ! 
However, I mean I’ll be delighted if you are as happy 
as you are nice to look at, little daughters and niece. 
Jim, Jim, do come here and see our Court Lady, our 
Priscilla — and our witch.” 


PILGEIMS AND STEANGERS 


109 


Beth caught the slight emphasis that Aunt Alida put 
on the last three words, and hoped that Alys would 
not notice it. Uncle Jim beamed on them, all three ; 
it seemed to Beth that Uncle Jim cared more for the 
frolic than for his elder daughter’s beauty. “ There’s 
Dirk ! ” cried Beth. There was Dirk in doublet, boots 
and a sword. 

“ What are you ? ” asked Beth eagerly. 

“ I’m a fool to let ’em get me such togs,” growled 
Dirk. “ Mama says I’m Miles Standish. Search me ! 
I don’t know what I look like ! Say, though, Beth, 
the sword’s decent, ain’t it ? ” 

“ You look fine, Dirk,” cried Beth, and Dirk could 
not detect mockery in her honest eyes. 

No one could hear what they said so the boy unbent 
a little to her sweetness. “ You’re a peach,” he said 
earnestly. “You look like one of the kids they take 
out in the mall, in that long dress and baby cap. But 
you’re out of sight, all right. I guess I’ll dance with 
you, ’cause I’ve got to dance with somebody and you’re 
the best there is.” 

“ Yes ; I’d rather dance with you,” agreed Beth 
“ When are they coming ? ” 

“ Who ? The rest of the show ? Some of ’em are 

here now, getting their things off, and ” 

“ Oh, there’s the music ! ” cried Beth, as the small 
orchestra of strings began to play in the music room. 

“ Sure. They’ll put ’em in the ballroom when the 
time comes,” said Dirk, wondering to see the rapture 
in Beth’s eyes. 


no 


BETH'S WONDEE WINTEE 


After that Beth hardly knew what happened. She 
floated on the lovely music through an enchanted 
region, into which there began to come quaint and 
beautiful figures, some of them tall and nearly grown 
up, like I^atalie, some of them midway, like Alys, some 
of them small like herself ; figures in strange, picture 
garments that made them seem unreal, even when they 
were introduced to her by her cousins and she found 
herself dancing with them. Because it was a dream 
and she was not really Beth Bristead ! 

Beth was not shy and afraid as she had expected to 
be. She danced down and around the great ballroom, 
carried along by that fairy music, so happy that there 
was no room for fear. Never had she heard such 
music, trod such a slippery floor, reflecting hundreds 
of lights, making the space under her feet as brilliant 
as the high ceiling. She could not be afraid of the 
children whom she met in fairy-land ! So Beth smiled 
blissfully at them all and answered happily when they 
spoke to her, feeling as if these strangers in old-time 
costume were all old friends. 

She had no idea of how proudly, with what pleasure 
her aunt and uncle watched her, nor that Natalie and 
Alys had to acknowledge many kind speeches made 
by the older girls about their pretty little cousin. She 
did not know that Dirk’s gloom was increasing; she 
hardly knew that she was happy, because she was so 
full of happiness that there was not room left for know- 
ing it. A blissful little Beth, she danced through an 
evening of hours which she had never before sat up to 


PILGEIMS AND STEANGEES 111 

see, floating through fairy-land on the wings of fairy 
music. 

Dirk looked sullen and cross when he came to take 
Beth to supper, but Beth did not see it. 

“ Oh, Dirk,” she sighed, “ isn’t it lovely, lovely ! 
There’s a book at home, an old history all full of 
pictures, and it’s just as if they had come to life ! Yet 
I think it’s more as if the garden had come alive. And 
the music ! I feel as if I was a little pink cloud ! You 
know ; the kind that is so fluffy and looks so happy 
when it blows along in the sunset.” 

“Well, I’m glad you like it!” growled Dirk dis- 
gustedly. “If ever you catch me togging out like 
this again! It’s hotter’n fury in this double-thing- 
doublet ! And even the sword bothers the life out of 
me. If I was up in the gym and had some of the 
fellers I could get some good out of this sword. Come 
on, Beth ; we’ll have a supper anyhow that’ll be big 
enough to bust this old doublet — wish ’twould ! ” 

“ Oh, Dirk ; I thought everybody was having such a 
lovely time ; I’m so sorry ! But you will have a good 
time when we dance the dance that Natalie leads, the 
one that means chasing the witch, won’t you ? ” cried 
Beth falling into line with, her discontented cousin for 
the supper march. 

“Not on your life ! ” returned Dirk glumly. 

In the supper room Beth forgot Dirk as soon as he 
had gone to get her refreshments, for here was another 
realm of enchantments. There were clear soups in 
fairy cups, cold turkey, salads, dear little triangles 


112 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


enclosing turkey or lettuce ; a sort of unearthly delicate 
bread, cakes such as no mere mortal could have made, 
of which Ella Lowndes would never dare to dream on 
her baking day, little cakes iced in all colors, flavored 
by fairies with unknown, haunting flavors. There were 
ices in the form of little turkeys, as a reminder of the 
day, and chocolate with whipped cream on its surface, 
served in cups that were surely flowers changed by 
enchantment into porcelain. In the middle of the table 
stood a mammoth turkey and when everybody had had 
all and more than they could possibly eat Natalie, as 
the witch, was called upon to cast a spell upon him 
and make him give up his treasures. 

So Natalie thrice waved her witch’s stick around his 
head, and the mammoth turkey, by some secret magic, 
spread his wings and showered upon the table bonbons, 
snapping mottoes, little flags and candies that looked 
like cranberries, but which proved to be something 
beyond and above the flavor of any candy that Beth 
had ever tasted. 

Then the music called “ the Pilgrims and Strangers,” 
as Uncle Jim dubbed his young guests in their ancient 
gowns, back to the dance. Beth went gladly, delicious 
though the feast had been. Never in her life before 
had she danced except around a crowded parlor at 
home with one of the little girls as partner while an- 
other played for their dancing tingling tunes with an 
unvaried bass. This vast room, ice-smooth floor, these 
throbbing violins, ’cellos, and harps — ah, that made 
dancing another matter! 


PILGEIMS AND STEANGEES 


113 


“ Happy, Bethie ? ” asked Aunt Alida, detaining Beth 
for an instant as she passed her, moving with a light, 
floating step of her own to the exquisite music that 
recalled the guests. 

“Oh, happy. Aunt Ahda! You think we’re all 
awake, don’t you ? I’m so afraid I’ll wake up ! ” said 
Beth leaning her head against Aunt Alida’s pale gray 
gown. “ What do you represent, auntie dearest ? Are 
you anything historical or Thanksgivingy ? ” 

“It is only the children who represent something, 
Bethie. This isn’t my party, you know; I’m not a 
part of the party. But perhaps I represent Plymouth 
Eock — I’m nearly its color,” laughed Aunt Alida. 

Beth found herself one of the last to enter the ball- 
room after she had kissed Aunt Alida and hurried on. 
Dirk was looking for her, for they were to be partners 
in this merry witch chase. The children were paired 
and drawn up in a long line with beautiful Natalie at 
their head. Beth and Dirk slipped into their places in 
the line, the few stragglers were summoned, and all was 
ready. 

The orchestra burst forth in a strain of wild, sweet, 
strange music which Beth did not know was Hun- 
garian, but which she dimly felt harmonized with 
Natalie’s crimson figure as she darted forward in a 
swinging, swift dance-step down the room. The others 
followed her at a signal, giving her a good start. Then 
Natalie “ led them a dance ” indeed ! 

Up and down, over, across, straight, zigzagging, dart- 
ing, turning, Natalie danced, and ever following her 


114 


BETH'S WONDEE- WINTER 


came the pretty line of boys and girls in their quaint 
costumes, following as if Natalie were a sort of Pied 
Piper and they were her victims, or as though she were 
a witch, indeed, who had bewitched them. 

Faster and faster the thrilling music rose, faster and 
faster Natalie led her winding pursuers, till at last, at 
a signal from Mrs. Cortlandt, the whole long train 
broke and spread out, encircling Natalie and taking her 
captive. 

“ The witch ! We’ve caught the witch ! What shall 
we do with her ? ” cried Dirk who had long ago for- 
gotten his dislike of costumes and had danced the 
game-dance with gusto. 

“ Burn her ! Hang her ! Set her free ! Hold her ! 
Make her pay her forfeit ! ” cried various voices. They 
all turned to Mrs. Cortlandt for her verdict ; she was 
to decide what should be the witch’s sentence. 

“ If she can lead you in singing as she has in dancing 
she shall go free ! ” cried Natalie’s mother. 

The orchestra began to play “My Country ’Tis of 
Thee,” and Natalie began to sing. She had a sweet, 
clear young voice and she was fully able to redeem 
herself. The dancers followed her in this, as they had 
in dancing. It was a pretty chorus. But a strange 
thing happened. One by one the singers fell silent as 
they failed to remember the words. Only Beth, out 
of her careful training in such things in her old, so- 
dilferent home in the Massachusetts hills, knew the 
anthem quite to the end. She sang it fearlessly in her 
sweet little voice, like a little song sparrow. And the 


PILGEIM8 AND STEANGEES 


116 


Thanksgiving dance ended with Beth in her soft, silvery 
blue Priscilla gown singing “ My Country ’Tis of Thee,” 
standing amid the silent circle of costumed young “ Pil- 
grims and Strangers,” her happy, flushed little round 
face uplifted, her heart overflowing with true Thanks- 
giving gratitude and love. And Uncle Jim, watching 
the child, said under his breath : “ God bless the dear 
little soul ! ” 


CHAPTEE yill 


TANAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 

‘‘ "\/0U haven’t had your gym suit on once, Beth- 

Jl ikins ! ” said J^atalie reproachfully. 

“ Oh, yes, I have ; I tried it on the minute it came — 
the minute I got off my dress to go to bed the night it 
came,” Beth corrected herself with her usual pains- 
taldng fidelity to the exact letter of the truth. 

‘‘ Trying on doesn’t count ; you haven’t worn it,” 
said Alys. 

“ Trying on counted a lot to me,” Beth corrected 
her. “ It’s like a bluebird.” 

“ Funny you said that ! Mama said we could be the 
Tanagers and Bluebirds, our gym club. All the girls 
must wear crimson or blue,” cried Natalie. 

“ All the girls ? ” echoed Beth inquiringly. “ Do 
you have outside girls in it ? I’d be afraid to try if 
strange girls come.” 

“Our best friends come,” said Alys. “We have a 
perfectly magnificent instructor and our gymnasium is 
better than the other girls have — most of them haven’t 
one at all — so mama lets us have the girls here and 
form a club.” 

“ You needn’t be afraid of that lot, Beth,” Dirk said 
116 


TAKAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 


117 


derisively. “ They're not much at it. I bet you'll 
show 'em something after you get the hang of it. 
You walk like a kid that could do gym stunts. Yes, 
they ask the girls in, but I can't ask any of the fel- 
lows ! What do you know about that ? I practice 
with ’em, 'cause father wants me to get the lessons 
when Bob Leonard's here, but not a boy but me in it ! 
Tanagers and Bluebirds ! Well, I guess ! Sparrows, 
that's what ! I wear black.” 

“ Who's Bob Leonard ? That can't be a girl ? ” 
asked Beth, suppressing a desire to laugh. 

“ It is Mr. Kobert Leonard, our teacher,” said Alys, 
looking severely at her unabashed brother. “ He was 
a great — athletic, or whatever you call it ” 

“ Athlete,” Natalie corrected. 

“ Athlete, then, at college. His father lost his 
money and Mr. Leonard has to teach and do things 
like that, while he is studying law. Dirk, mama dis- 
likes you to be impertinent.” 

“ Who is ? ” demanded Dirk. “ Bob Leonard suits 
him. You can't go around mistering a fine chap like 
him. He can do anything ; he's awful strong and 
clean-cut. Besides, he likes it. Bob Leonard's the 
way to speak of him ; I'll leave it to Beth after she 
sees him. Girls are the limit ! They think you're 
fresh if you don't mister every one. It's the people you 
like you treat like that, that's dead easy to see.” 

Beth felt a return of the vague regret that she had 
felt before. Now that the first dazzling wonder of her 
new surroundings was somewhat less blinding she be- 


118 


BETH^S WONDER- WINTER 


gan to wish that Dirk meant a little more to his sisters. 
Natalie was sweet temper itself ; she did not often find 
fault with Dirk, as Alys was only too ready to do at 
the slightest provocation. But Natalie treated him 
with kindly indifference, as if a small boy mattered 
little and must be left to himself until he found his way 
into big boyhood, when he might matter. Dirk was 
always on the defensive toward the girls and often was 
on the offensive. Beth knew that the three were 
really fond of one another, but it troubled her tender 
little heart that they sometimes scarcely seemed so. 

“ I’ll like the gymnasium — if I’m not afraid. Maybe 
Dirk will start me in it ? ” she said with the smile that 
Dirk inwardly felt was irresistible. The wistful look 
in her eyes, born of her regret for the sharpness Alys 
and Dirk showed each other, made the boy say promptly : 

“ I’ll see you through, Beth ; you stick to me. I’m 
a cracker-jack on the bar, if I do say it.” 

“ Better get ready, Bethie,” advised Natalie. “ Mr. 
Leonard comes in an hour.” 

Beth ran away on this hint to her own room where 
she found Frieda reading. The girl arose when Beth 
entered and said apologetically : 

“ I seemed to have nothing to do. Miss Beth, so I 
was reading a little. I’ve tightened all the buttons on 
everything you have ready made and there’s nothing 
needs mending yet.” 

“ I should think those German letters would be as 
hard to read as it would be to sew pine boards to- 
gether,” said Beth, missing the point of Frieda’s apology. 


TANAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 


119 


I’ve got to put on mj gymnasium suit, Frieda. I 
don’t think I knew it was regular lessons ; I thought 
the gymnasium was just for fun. Natalie says they’re 
taught. I’m glad now Aunt Alida bought the suit. 
Anything was good enough to play in, but a regular 
teacher is different.” 

“ Oh, sure. Miss Beth,” said Frieda with conviction 
as she hastened to get out Beth’s gymnasium uniform, 
“ it’s all different from that. There’s nothing here 
that anything you happen to have is good enough for j 
it’s all got to be just the way it ought to be.” 

‘‘ Isn’t that true, Frieda ! ” cried Beth, struck by this 
summing up of what had amazed her. 

She regarded her slender legs admiringly as they ap- 
peared, like slender black stems out of particularly full 
calyxes, below the puffy dark blue silk bloomers which 
she had donned. “ I’m afraid my great-aunt Kebecca, 
at home, would not think this was a nice costume. She 
says a great deal about being feminine in all your ways. 
Maybe she’d think bloomers were not feminine — 
though in the pictures of Turkish ladies they always 
wear them and have their heads tied up so you can only 
see their eyes. They must think noses and mouths 
aren’t feminine there.” 

Frieda had long ago given up even the hope of fol- 
lowing the course of Beth’s rapid thoughts ; she wisely 
confined herself now to the main point as she replied : 

‘‘Wait till you get the tunic on. Miss Beth. It’s just 
a regular dress.” 

It was and a remarkably pretty one. It fitted the 


120 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTER 


round, childish slenderness to perfection, falling softly 
in deep silken pleats below the knee bands of the 
doubtful bloomers. Deep Yan Dyck points of lace 
formed a collar and, reversed, made effective cuffs on 
the sleeves. A cap with a jaunty feather was the un- 
necessary last touch of completeness. 

“ It won’t stay on,” said Beth, surveying herself with 
undisguised delight in the long mirror. “ But it’s the 
loveliest cap ever ! I feel just like Claverhouse with 
the Bonnets of Bonny Dundee. You don’t know about 
that, do you, Frieda ? You couldn’t, because, if you’re 
German, you read mostly about the Watch on the 
Rhine, I suppose. It’s almost the best of all those 
splendid things — all those English and Scotch Middle 
Ages poems which I’m crazy about.” 

Beth began to caper all around the room, watching 
ecstatically the* blue silken figure that followed her, ca- 
pering as she did, in the mirrors of her dresser, dress- 
ing table and cheval glass. 

I’m one of the bluebirds, and I feel like flying ! ” 
she panted, obeying an inviting gesture from Frieda to 
sit before the dressing table and have her hair made 
tight for the exercise to come. “ Frieda, isn’t it the 
very best thing in all the world to be a little girl and 
jump and fly around? It’s like ‘We are Seven’ — I 
had that to say in school — ‘A little child, that feels 
its life in every limb.’ Isn’t it the best thing, just 
glorious ? ” 

“It is, Miss Beth, when you’re like that. Some 
isn’t,” said Frieda, stooping as if to pick up something. 


TANAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 


121 


Beth thought her voice had an odd sound ; she squirmed 
around in her chair and caught the glimmer of the tears 
which she had suspected were in Frieda’s eyes. 

In an instant warm-hearted Beth was on her feet and 
had her arms around her pretty young maid. “ Frieda, 
dear, what is it ? ” she murmured in the voice that few 
had ever resisted in her short life. “ What makes you 
feel bad ? You have to tell me, because you Jime to, 
and I want to know ! Please, Frieda ! ” 

“It’s nothing to bother you with. Miss Beth. I 
didn’t mean to cry ever so little. It’s my little sister. 
When I think of her it hurts, and gymnasium and 
dancing days I have to think of her,” said Frieda, with 
a sudden sob at the end of her sentence. 

“ What is it, Frieda ? Is she one of those you just 
spoke of who isn’t like that ? ” coaxed Beth, so sympa- 
thetic that she adopted Frieda’s grammar. 

Frieda nodded. “ She’s only nine years old, but she’s 
that lame she can’t walk only on crutches, and on them 
but a little way,” said Frieda. 

“ How awful ! What’s her name, poor, poor Frieda ? 
Can’t any one make her well ? ” cried Beth, her own 
eyes overflowing. 

“ Her name is Lotta, Miss Beth ; we mostly call her 
Liebchen. It might be a great surgeon could cure her : 

the doctors told us it might be, but Well, Miss 

Beth, you know great surgeons come high, and there’s 
many more children besides little Liebchen,” said 
Frieda. 

“ Tell Aunt Alida and my uncle ! ” cried Beth, her 


122 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


face lighting up with the conviction that nothing more 
would be necessary. Then, as Frieda shook her head, 
Beth cried : “ Don’t you know they’d want to know it, 
Frieda, and help ? ” 

“I know people don’t want to be bothered with their 
servants’ troubles, Miss Beth. I wouldn’t take the lib- 
erty. My mother told me never to ' let the people I 
worked for see me look sad. She was at service, too, 
in her young days, in Germany. She knows; she 
worked for hochwohlgeboren damen,” said Frieda 
proudly. 

“ For what ? ” cried Beth. 

“ Hochwohlgeboren — high- well-born ladies. That’s 
what you call them in Germany,” explained Frieda. 

In spite of her sympathy Beth’s laughter rang out. 

“ To their faces ? ” she gasped. “ Oh, Frieda, isn’t 
that funny ! When all we say is just ‘ noble ladies ’ ! 
Well, but your mother didn’t know kind, dear, sweet 
Aunt Alida. And Uncle Jim ! Look at all the things 
they’ve given me — and you to put them on for me ! 
Of course they’ll have Liebchen cured! I shall tell 
them about her myself.” 

“ Miss Beth, you mustn’t, really 1 ” cried Frieda 
alarmed. “ They might be angry with me for talking 
to you ; they might think I told you about my sister to 
get you to ask them to help her, and as sure as I stand 
here I never thought of it ! Please don’t tell them. 
Miss Beth dear. You don’t understand how life is 
here, yet. It might cost me my place to have told you 
about my family and got you interested. I can’t always 


TANAGERS AND BLUEBIRDS 


123 


get such a good place as this, Miss Beth — and I’d hate 
to leave you, if you’ll let me say that much.” 

“ I’d hate to have you, Frieda ! ” cried Beth giving 
her maid a warm little impetuous hug. “I think 
you’re the nicest girl ! And you’re young and pretty. 
I like Anna Mary, of course, but I really don’t know 
what I’d do if I had to have such a solemn, rather 
frightening person to wait on me. Don’t you worry 
one bit, Frieda. You’ll see! The gym club is the 
Tanagers and Bluebirds. That’s what the girls are called. 
And I’m one of the bluebirds. Don’t you know the 
bluebird stands for happiness ? Well, then 1 I’m going 
to be a real bluebird. But it will be Uncle Jim and 
Aunt Alida who will be more really bluebirds than I 
can be, because they can have Liebchen cured. I just 
know it will all turn out like a story. My! Aunt 
Rebecca isn’t one bit right ! She is sort of afraid of 
money, but it’s like having a big, bottomless fairy chest 
that you can dip into and bring up most anything, for 
anybody ! Does Liebchen speak English, or is she too 
young to have learned it ?” 

“ She was born in America, Miss Beth. I was only 
six years old when I came here,” replied Frieda. 

Beth was half-way to the door, suddenly realizing 
that she might be late in the gymnasium. She paused 
to say : 

“ Isn’t that strange, Frieda ? It must mix up fam- 
ilies dreadfully to come to America. Queer to be Ger- 
man and have an American sister ! You see if you 
don’t have a well-and-strong American sister ! I’m sure 


124 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEK 


the bluebird name is going to work.” With which this 
particular little bluebird dew out of the room, her short, 
full silken skirt fanned out by the opening of the door 
until it took only a slight effort of imagination to see 
her wings. 

At the door of the gymnasium Beth paused. The 
hum of voices, the pounding of heavy weights, the muf- 
fled pad of feet told her that while she had been getting 
ready and talking to Frieda the girls, of whom she was 
considerably afraid, had arrived. Summoning her 
courage she opened the door gently and slipped in 
through the smallest opening that allowed her to do so. 

The scene before her was so pretty that Beth forgot 
all -about the timid Bluebird hovering on its threshold. 
Sixteen girls in various shades and designs of warm red 
and brilliant blue costumes were running, fencing, tum- 
bling, perching on horizontal bars, swinging dumb- 
bells, stretching their flexible young muscles in all sorts 
of ways to get them into order for the real business of 
the day. Among them, in a sense, but quite apart, 
stood Dirk in black, his black silk jersey ornamented 
with a monogram combining the blues and red of the 
club colors. Dirk’s expression was disdainful, yet Beth 
saw at a glance that he was enjoying his boyish sense of 
superiority over inferior girls. He was the first to espy 
Beth and beckoned to her frantically to hurry on. A 
tall young man, splendidly vigorous and strong, with a 
friendly, jolly face Beth guessed was Mr. Leonard, the 
instructor. She felt immediately that he was full of a 
big-boyishness which justified Dirk in saying that it 


TANAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 


125 


was suitable to call him “ Bob ” Leonard. Dirk came 
over to escort Beth into the room ; he meant to carry 
out his promise and see her through. 

Natalie swung down from a bar on which she had 
been perched, like a great tanager in her vivid scarlet 
gymnasium suit. Natalie was perpetually taking away 
her little cousin’s breath by her tropical beauty, seen in 
a new setting. Beth looked at her now quite over- 
awed, and Natalie laughed, pleased by the adoration 
she saw in those honest blue-gray eyes. 

“ Come along, Cozbeth ! Isn’t that a nice name ? 
Not Elizabeth, but Cousin Elizabeth, then just little 
Cozbeth ! Come along, Bethie dear, and get acquainted 
with the girls and everything,” Natalie said, joining 
Dirk and Beth. She led the way across the floor to 
Mr. Leonard. 

“Mr. Leonard, this is a new bluebird we’ve cap- 
tured. My cousin, Beth Bristead, from Massachusetts. 
Beth, this is Mr. Leonard who teaches us more than we 
are clever enough to learn,” said Natalie. 

Beth smiled back with her ready friendliness to the 
friendly smile Mr. Leonard bent upon her. But she 
found time to notice how grown up Natalie’s little 
speech sounded and to think that Natalie had inherited 
from Aunt Alida her pretty tact, as well as her dark 
eyes. 

“ Now, face the music, Cozbeth ! ” whispered Natalie, 
wheeling Beth around toward the girls. “Tanagers 
and Bluebirds, here’s the new Bluebird. Some of you 
know her already. I’m not going to introduce you all 


126 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


separately. This is my cousin, Beth Bristead, and she’s 
our duck, as well as our Yankee bluebird.” 

Beth’s face was crimson, but she smiled bravely, try- 
ing to conquer her shyness. 

“We’ll begin now that your cousin has come. Miss 
ISTatalie,” said Mr. Leonard. 

“ Oh, were you all waiting for me ? Isn’t that dread- 
ful ! ” cried Beth. “ But, Natalie, I had to talk to 
Frieda. Her little sister’s lame and I want to tell 
Aunt Alida ” 

“ Mama isn’t here, Beth dear. We have to do our 
‘gymsticks’ now. That’s what Dirk called gymnas- 
tics when he was a little tot,” said Natalie, disengaging 
herself, now that she had done her duty by Beth, and 
going to join the older girls, her special chums. 

“ I’m going to start Beth in, Mr. Leonard ; you can 
go on with the class,” said Dirk. 

“ That’s right. She can begin with the simple exer- 
cises, you know, and watch the others. Dirk can start 
you just as well as I can, little new Bluebird,” said 
Mr. Leonard, moving away with that merry smile of 
his which won Beth’s instant affection. 

“Isn’t he nice!” she cried fervently. “You don’t 
call him Bob when you speak to him, do you ? ” 

Dirk hastily scanned Beth’s face for the rebuke that 
was farthest from her thoughts. Not seeing it, he 
shrugged his shoulders and said easily : 

“ You can’t do that, you know, unless you had settled 
with him to do it. ’Twouldn’t go here in class, any- 
way. But no fellow would tag such a dandy chap as 


TANAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 


127 


he is with mister when yon talked about him. Nice ! 
Well, I just guess! He’s the jimmest of all the jim 
dandies you ever saw ! ” 

The class had fallen into line and Mr. Leonard, alter- 
ing his mind, beckoned Beth and Dirk to join it. He 
put them through a rapid sword practice, with short 
sticks instead of more dangerous weapons, right and 
left, forward thrusts, falling back, advancing, one hand 
on hip, the other making swift play with the wands. 

At first Beth was awkward, half afraid, but in five 
minutes this had gone from her, and she was almost keep- 
ing up with the older, more experienced girls. Her 
muscles were supple and sound, thanks ter her freedom to 
romp and play in her old Massachusetts country village 
life. That life was now seeming more and more like a 
dream as the new life in this great city grew familiar. 

Alys was especially good in this practice. There was 
a cat-like grace about Alys and she moved as quickly, 
almost as lithely as a cat. She, too, was a “ Bluebird ” 
but in pale blue. Aunt Alida chose shades for Alys 
which harmonized with her delicacy of coloring and 
which emphasized the whiteness of her fair skin. 

After this exercise Mr. Leonard took his pupils 
through trapeze exercises which made Beth gasp with 
an admiration that held fear of the day when she 
should be expected to attempt such feats. 

Dirk did not allow her long to admire them; he 
forced Beth into laying the foundations of her athletic 
education. He was much surprised to find her his 
equal in climbing. 


128 


BETH’S WONDEB- WINTER 


“ Goodness, that’s nothing ! ” panted Beth when 
Dirk expressed this surprise. She sat easily on a 
swinging bar, her arms around its supporting ropes, 
while she tightened her slipping hair ribbons and read- 
justed the cap which was secretly her pride and which 
Dirk could not persuade her to lay aside. 

“At Aunt Rebecca’s Janie and I climbed everything 
we could get up. I have been in trees almost half the 
time in summer ; seems as much, anyway. I always 
could climb, but you ought to see Janie ! She isn’t as 
plump as I am ; she isn’t plump one bit ; she’s thin. 
She goes up into anything like a squirrel. We play 
the loveliest things, Dirk; I know you’d like them. 
And you’d like Janie. She’s my best friend. She’s 
just as nice as she can be. I wish Janie was here in 
New York, too ! ” 

“ Are all the girls nice down there ? ” asked Dirk. 
“I’ll bet I wouldn’t like Janie any better, anyhow ! ” 

“ I’m glad you like me, Dirk, because we’re cousins 
and because I like you and I love loving, anyway,” 
said Beth, not evading the compliment. “But Janie 
is lovely. I suppose all the girls aren’t nice anywhere ; 
there are some at home I don’t care about. Janie and 
I think it can’t be wrong not to like girls who aren’t 
the kind you are meant to like. Janie has a very nice 
mother, so she thinks that’s the reason I like her. But 
I haven’t any mother at all. Of course Aunt Rebecca 
has brought me up very carefully. I think she’s 
brought me up more carefully than a mother would. 
Mothers don’t seem to have to be so careful as great- 


TANAGERS AND BLUEBIRDS 


129 


aunts do; it comes kind of easy to them to bring 
up their children, sort of mixing petting and punish- 
ing. Aunt Rebecca never petted. I used to wish she 
would, a little, but now I’m glad she didn’t because I 
know she doesn’t miss me as a petting person would 
miss a little girl they’d brought up.” 

“ Do you play with boys down there ? ” asked Dirk 
diffidently. 

“ No,” said truthful Beth, “ not really. Parties don’t 
count. Of course when you ask girls to a party you 
have to ask boys too, though I never could see why. 

Boys are ” Beth stopped short. The speech she 

thus checked would not have carried out her resolution 
to be especially nice to Dirk. 

“ Boys are no good,” Dirk finished for her with some 
bitterness. “ That’s what Nat and Alys think and they 
don’t try not to show it, like you. Nat isn’t so bad, but 
Alys ! I’d be sorry for boys if they weren’t as nice as 
some girls ! ” 

“ They are, Dirk ; they truly are ! ” cried Beth 
eagerly. “ That’s just it ! It’s some boys and some 
girls, both ways, nice and not nice ! It isn’t all boys 
and all girls, either way. I think you’re ever so nice ; 
I think you’re nice as a boy and not just as a cousin. 
And I’m sure Alys does, too, only sometimes sisters and 
brothers get into a way of fussing ; I’ve noticed that at 
home. Don’t you tease Alys?” suggested Beth 
gently. 

“ Sure thing,” admitted Dirk promptly. “ But she’s 
the kind you want to. I started in to tease you, but 


130 


BETH’S WONDEE-WIKTEE 


after you held your tongue that Sunday and got me 
out of a scrape I didn’t want to any more^ you can bet 
your last on that ! You’re the kind you don’t want to 
tease. Alys is looking for trouble with me so she gets 
it. I’d hate to bother you, Beth, honest. You don’t 
get mad ; you look so surprised and sorry it’s no fun.” 

“ You bother me when you bother Alys, Dirk dear,” 
said Beth, seeing her chance. 

“ Honest ? Oh, come off ! What do you care ? ” 
stammered Dirk. 

“ I love loving ; I just said so,” laughed Beth, tact- 
fully trying not to seem to preach. “ It’s such a fairy- 
land in this house it worries me if you and Alys aren’t 
just as cozy together as Queen Mab and — and — King 
Mab ! Who was the king of fairy-land ? ” 

“Never heard. Oberon,” said Dirk in one breath. 
“ Look here, Beth, if you’ll kind of stick up for me I’ll 
do it — stop teasing Alys, I mean. Only I’ve got to 
have a chum in this house. And if Alys gets funny I 
think I might get back one or two at her.” 

“ Oh, I’ll be a chum ; I’d like to,” cried Beth. 
“ Natalie is too big for me and Alys is older than I am, 
more — less — Alys seems older than she is. I miss J anie ; 
Janie and Tabby, though Poppy is a lovely kitten. 
That’s a bargain, Dirk. And I sha’n’t be half so 
nervous when I know you aren’t going to be mean to 
Alys.” 

Dirk looked at Beth’s round, rosy, placid face and 
laughed outright. 

“ Are you nervous, Beth ? ” he asked. 


TANAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 


131 


“ When people are rather scrappy around the place it 
makes you feel as if a thunder-shower was coming up. 
It’s a nervous thing to expect snappings,” returned Beth, 
laughing too, as she uncoiled her arms and prepared to 
descend from the swing. 

Dirk followed her and took her down the room to 
initiate her in the use of dumb-bells. He was much 
pleased to find that she could not swing one of more 
than half the weight of his greatest dumb-bell. He 
looked up to this sweet cousin at such a rate that it 
restored his manly sense of superiority to find her 
muscular strength unequal to his own. 

The Tanagers and Bluebirds ended with a game of 
basket-ball, red against blue. Beth had never seen the 
game, so could not serve her side well this first time. 
She asked that Dirk might play instead of her and his 
baseball skill so well fitted him for this game that the 
Bluebirds won. Beth saw with pleasure that Alys 
smiled approval on her brother who had helped her side 
to victory. 

“ Gymnasium isn’t so bad, is it, Bethie ? ” asked 
Natalie, when all the girls transformed by street cloth- 
ing had gone. The maids attendant on her cousins’ 
friends had appeared from somewhere below stairs at 
the end of the afternoon’s exercise to get the pretty 
maidens out of the tanager and bluebird plumage into 
the costumes of ordinary mortals. It still oppressed 
Beth’s simple soul to find all the world served to such a 
degree. 

“ It isn’t bad at all ; it’s perfectly splendid. And I 


132 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


wasn’t afraid after the first, because nobody noticed me. 
Dirk and I had quite a nice time. And Mr. Leonard 
you couldn’t be afraid of because there’s nothing about 
him that is one bit frightening,” said Beth. 

“ I’m glad you like him, Bethie ; we all do,” said 
Natalie. “ You like everything and everybody, Coz- 
beth. I never saw such a honey pot.” 

“ Well, that’s all you know about it, Natalie,” de- 
clared Beth earnestly. “ I dislike lots of things and 
lots of people. But you don’t have anything or any 
one here I can dislike. Aunt Kebecca says it uses up a 
lot of valuble strength to dislike. She says it’s better 
to go around the object you dislike, and try not to see 
it, than it is to go around disliking it. What she means 
is to dislike anything once for all and drop it. Aunt 
Eebecca is a lady who never feels half-way, I think. 
You know what it says in the Bible about lukewarm- 
ness? Well, Aunt Eebecca won’t ever have that text 
to think about on the last day.” 

Natalie’s laughter rang out so heartily that it brought 
Alys running to hear the joke. 

“ I’d have to repeat the whole speech, and then it 
wouldn’t be the same,” sighed Natalie, not trying to 
explain. “ Beth is so much in earnest and is such an 
old-fashioned little thing ! Bethie, I don’t believe you 
were born eleven years ago ! You’re exactly like a lit- 
tle piece of old flowered silk, or one of those samplers, 
or a cup of sprigged china that you see in old 
colonial collections ! ” cried Natalie with an inspira- 
tion. 


TANAGEES AND BLUEBIEDS 


133 


“ Kind of faded and musty ? ” suggested Beth with 
a twinkle. “ Besides, you don’t have to go to colonial 
collections to see them, Natalie. We have them at 
home. Aunt Eebecca has my great-great-great-grand- 
mother Bristead’s sampler. It has pine trees, baskets 
of flowers, two kinds of alphabets and the text about 
serving the Lord in your youth worked on it. She 
signed it, working, you know : Amelia Elizabeth 
Barlow. She married great-great-great-grandfather 
Bristead afterward, of course. And there is almost all 
of a sprigged china tea set in our house.” 

Alys stared. “Isn’t your great-aunt who brought 
you up, Beth, quite poor ? ” she asked. 

Natalie frowned and blushed, but Beth was uncon- 
scious of offense. 

“ You mean how could she have these things, Alys ? ” 
Beth said. “ Aunt Eebecca hasn’t much money. I 
suppose here she would be quite poor, but there she 
isn’t. It doesn’t cost much to live there and Aunt Ee- 
becca has all she wants, I guess. She is the biggest 
giver there to things — like the church and missions and 
those things, you know. She doesn’t ever spend for 
little things. I like little things, myself ! Sometimes 
I think wicked thoughts, like wondering if a perfectly 
beautiful dress and hat for me would be nicer than 
sending to heathens. Now I’ve had things here love- 
lier than I ever saw I shall never dare think wicked 
thoughts again, because when you’re bad, and don’t 
get punished for it, it makes you so ashamed you 
simply have to be good. You see it never could seem 


134 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


as though we were poor at home because we are Bris- 
teads. Aunt Rebecca says : ‘ Let the new people have 
the fine clothes, Beth ; we can afford old ones because 
everybody knows what the Bristeads did for their 
country before the Revolution and all through it and 
pretty much ever since.’ Of course I’m glad of what 
Aunt Rebecca calls ‘ our honorable inheritance,’ but I 
often think good ancestors must hke to see you in a 
becoming dress, that hasn’t been turned. But Aunt 
Rebecca isn’t poor, Alys. I don’t believe she ever 
thinks much about money at all ; just spends what she 
can afford and thinks it doesn’t matter for her that it’s 
so little.” 

“ That’s a long speech, Cozbeth, and it’s a very nice 
one,” said Natalie heartily. “ I think you’ve told us 
about what really means fine ladyhood. But don’t 
think the Cortlandt side cares too much about money, 
either, Bethie. Mama never measures people by a bank 
book ; neither does father. They’ve always told us to 
be glad and thankful we had such a lot entrusted to 
us, but to remember that it was entrusted to us, and 
that it was a tremendous responsibility to face and that 
we must never forget that money was only outside ; 
that what we were mattered. Mama is very much the 
same sort of fine lady your aunt is, only one has a great 
deal to do with and the other only a little, perhaps.” 

“ Goodness, Natalie, don’t you suppose I know Aunt 
Alida ? ” cried Beth, surprised. 

She could not yet see, as Natalie and Alys could, the 
great importance that wealth gives. “Really and 


TANAGERS AND BLUEBIRDS 


135 


truly Aunt Alida makes even less fuss about money 
than Aunt Rebecca. Aunt Rebecca makes a little tiny 
fuss about not making a fuss, and Aunt Alida goes 
right along, as quiet ! I’m glad she and Uncle Jim are 
the way they are, because I’m as sure as sureness they’ll 
have Liebchen cured 1 ” 

“ Who in all this world is that ? ” cried Alys, but 
Beth shook her head, laughing. 

“ I’m going to tell them about her first ! ” she cried, 
whisking into her room like a blithe bluebird into its 
nest in the crevice of a tree and closing the door to 
forbid following and further questioning. 


CHAPTEE IX 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 

O XE of the strangest things in all her strange new 
life to Beth was the fact that although one lived 
in the same house with people it might be quite im- 
possible to see them without planning for it. Some- 
times her Aunt Alida breakfasted in her room, lunched 
and dined out and Beth could not see her that day. 
Mr. Cortlandt’s morning hours varied. He was not 
often away, except when he and his wife were absent 
together, for he was exceedingly fond of his home and 
of his lovely wife, but sometimes he breakfasted early, 
sometimes not at all at home, but at the Country Club 
where he went to play golf till the snow flew. He was 
never at home to lunch and if he had a dinner engage- 
ment on successive days it happened that Beth might 
not see him for several days. Even Xatalie and Alys 
were sometimes hard to catch ; Dirk was always to be 
found at certain hours, but during the daytime Xatalie 
and Alys had their youthful engagements which separ- 
ated them from their cousin for hours. It seemed to 
Beth hardly possible that a family could live under one 
roof in such separation, when it was a most affectionate 
and happy family. 


136 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


137 


Beth thought of the close intimacy of the simple 
households she had known ‘‘ when she was little.” She 
began to think of her life in Massachusetts as some- 
thing that had happened years ago. A change as 
great as the one that had befallen Beth acts like years 
in putting previous ways and days far behind one. 

Beth wondered what Aunt Eebecca would say to 
this feature of the new life. She did not speak of it 
in the journal-letter which she faithfully wrote each 
day and which she dispatched to her great-aunt every 
Monday and Friday in order that Aunt Eebecca should 
always have a letter on Saturday to reread on Sunday. 
When Beth gave this bi-weekly letter to Frieda to be 
included in the household mail she found it hard to 
realize that Ella Lowndes, or maybe Janie herself, 
would bring it up to Aunt Eebecca’s from the small 
post-office. How could it be that the old, simple life 
was still going on while Beth was in fairy-land ? Beth 
was sure that she never could make Aunt Eebecca un- 
derstand that members of a family might not live in 
constant touch with one another and yet be happy and 
fond together. She could see Aunt Eebecca’s look of 
disapproval and hear her say “ there must be something 
wrong about it.” 

For two days after her first lesson in the gymnasium 
and her discovery of Frieda’s lame little sister Beth 
could not get a chance to tell Mr. and Mrs. Cortlandt 
about Liebchen. 

The third morning the entire family met at break- 
fast and while Beth was turning over in her mind the 


138 


BETH’S WOKDER- WINTER 


wisdom of broaching the subject then and was deciding 
against it, Mr. Cortlandt said : 

“ Any engagement for to-day, Miss Bristead ? ” 

“No, Mr. Cortlandt, nothing particular,” returned 
Beth, laughing back at the laugh in her uncle’s eyes. 

“ Will you go with me to be shown something that 
I hope may interest you ? ” asked Mr. Cortlandt. 

Beth saw that her aunt and the three cousins looked 
merrily excited, that there was some sort of new and 
delightful secret known to all but herself. 

“ I’m pretty sure I’ll be delighted to go, sir,” said 
Beth. “ When ? ” 

“ As soon as breakfast is over and the mail disposed 
of,” said her Uncle Jim. “ Did you ever see my stable ? ” 

“ I didn’t know you had one, here ; I suppose I 
would have known you must have one in the country. 
I’d love to see it — if there are horses in it,” said Beth. 

“ A stable without horses would be rather worse 
than a horse without a stable in New York,” said 
Uncle Jim. “We’ll visit mine after breakfast.” 

“ What kind of a dress do you put on to visit city 
stables. Aunt Alida ? ” asked Beth seriously when they 
left the table. 

Aunt Alida laughed. Frieda has a costume for you 
that came home last night ; you are to wear that,” she 
said. “ Don’t be alarmed when you see it about look- 
ing conspicuous in the street. We shall go to the stable 
in the car, though it isn’t far.” 

Beth silently went away, returning her aunt’s sig- 
nificant smile with a puzzled but affectionate one. 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


139 


She found Frieda awaiting her in her room. On 
the chair before the dressing table lay, of all things, a 
trig, diminutive riding habit of dark blue, skirt, short 
coat, knowing little hard hat, gauntlet gloves and all, 
while across the end of another table lay a silver- 
mounted riding stock. There was no mistaking the 
size of these garments, for whom they were intended, 
yet Beth stopped short and gasped, as she so often did 
at the succession of wonders she was encountering 
daily. 

“ Oh, Frieda ! Oh, Frieda, for me ? ” she cried. 
Then she had a second thought, a prevention of possible 
disappointment. “ Do they wear riding habits in New 
York just to visit stables ? ” she asked. 

“ No, Miss Beth, I don’t think they do,” replied 
Frieda, trying not to smile. “ I think your uncle 
wishes you to ride. Miss Natalie, Miss Alys and 
Master Dirk ride, you know.” 

“ Indeed I did know it, Frieda ! ” cried Beth. “ If I 
might ride — but you can’t, if you don’t know how, can 
you ? And I’m sure there isn’t room to learn here.” 

“ There are riding academies. Miss Beth. You can 
learn here much better than you can anywhere else, 
because here’d be first-class teachers,” said Frieda, ready 
to defend the city that had adopted her. “ I think, if 
you please. Miss Beth, you had better maKe a little 
haste. They want to start quite soon.” 

‘‘ You’ll have to do more even than usual to me, 
Frieda ; I don’t know one bit how to get ready in a 
riding habit,” said Beth. 


140 


BETS’S WONDEE- WINTER 


Her eyes were flashing with joyous excitement. The 
thought that this entrancing little habit might foretell 
her little self on the back of a living horse was almost 
too much rapture to bear. She could not talk, but 
silently watched Frieda gather her thick fair hair into 
a compact braid and loop it at her neck with a broad 
blue ribbon. Then she silently allowed her maid to 
divest her of her dainty morning gown and slip over 
her groomed head the riding skirt that was so entirely 
the correct sort that her head swam with the joy of it. 
A tailored little vest preceded the perfect-fitting coat. 
Beth surveyed herself in the glass, while she absent- 
mindedly pulled on the gauntlet riding gloves which 
Frieda offered her. 

“ I’m so glad I could cry ! ” said Beth tremulously, 
tears actually in her shining eyes. “ I’m not going to 
believe I am going to ride for fear I couldn’t bear it if 
I didn’t. When Janie and I used to put on grown-up 
skirts and get up on the apple tree boughs to pretend 
to ride we never, never could have dreamed one of us 
could ever look like this ! It’s exactly like the ladies 
in the pictures in the Waverley novels ! I’m going to 
remember it’s enough to have such a riding habit 
to visit the stable in, and not mind if I don’t ever 
ride.” 

This time Frieda allowed herself to laugh at her 
small lady. 

“That would be a queer reason for your aunt to 
take such pains in having this habit made. Miss Beth. 
You’ve no idea the pains she took, stealing your gowns 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


141 


from me so the tailor shouldn’t make a mistake in 
fitting and yet you know nothing of it,” she said. 

“ I shall never live long enough, nor be good enough, 
nor — nor anything ! — to show Aunt Alida how I love, 
love, adore her ! ” cried Beth. 

She took her hat, set it on her smooth hair, caught 
her breath and snatched the hat off again. She made 
a deep bow to herself in the long glass, saluting with 
the hat in her hand, in quite a soldierly way. 

“ Hail, Elizabeth Bristead, my lady ! ” she said. 
“You are wonderful, because you used to be nothing 
in all this world but little Beth! Come, my lady; 
we’re going to ri — to visit the stable ! ” Whereupon 
with a grand parting flourish of the hat, she set it once 
more upon her head and ran out of the room, quite as 
though she were still “little Beth.” 

“ Oh, doesn’t she look fine ! ” cried Natalie as Beth 
appeared. The others were assembled, waiting her. 
“ Her face rising up out of that habit looks like a pretty 
doll’s face over the top of a black Christmas stocking.” 

“Natalie, Natalie!” laughed her mother. “Does 
this mean a poet or a painter ? But you are a satis- 
factory small thing in that habit, Bethie ! ” 

“ I ought to be ! I wish I could thank you,” cried 
Beth, giving her aunt a hug that emphasized the wish. 

“ Come now, gushing ladies of assorted sizes, the 
car’s chugging away outside impatiently,” Mr. Cort- 
landt protested. 

So they all gathered up their coats and went out. 
They filled the tonneau of this car, which Mr. Cort- 


142 


BETH’S WOOTIEE- WINTER 


landt kept for city use, so completely that Alys groaned 
as she adjusted herself into as small a wedge as she 
could and remarked that she was glad they were not 
going far. 

They rolled leisurely around two corners and ran 
along a few blocks on an avenue, then turned into a 
cross street and, a short distance down its length east- 
ward, stopped. 

“ Is this — why, yes, it is a stable ! ” cried Beth. “ I 
had been looking for a regular barn.” 

“Painted red, with a wooden cock, or a trotting 
horse on the roof to tell which way the wind blew ? ” 
laughed her uncle. “ Not here, my niece ! Here we 
go into an opening in a long line of brick, much as the 
cave men used to go into caves to stable their horses 
and goats. And we go up-stairs to visit the horses.” 

Beth jumped out, swung by her uncle’s outstretched 
hands. 

“ It doesn’t matter ; I’m sure it will be all right when 
we get there. Everything here is different, but per- 
fectly splendid,” Beth cried, ready to be delighted, 
which is half the recipe for having a good time any- 
where. 

The stablemen greeted Mr. Cortlandt with hearty 
liking shining through their respectful salutations. 
One of them hailed Dirk with a slap on the shoulder 
which Dirk returned by a friendly poke. Beth noticed 
that Dirk seemed quite transformed by this visit. At 
home the girls led ; Dirk was, as he would have put it, 
“ not in it,” but here in the stable his sisters suddenly 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


143 


shrank into nobodies of importance and Dirk became 
the one of the Cortlandt children who mattered. 

“ Your horse is all right, Master Dirk,” the man who 
slapped Dirk said. “ He may have had a little cold, 
but I think he was just playin’ off. They’re foxy when 
they don’t want to go. ’T any rate there’s not wan 
thing wrong wid him now.” 

“ Has Dirk a horse ? A horse his very own ? ” Beth 
whispered, awestruck, to Alys. 

“We all three have,” said Alys. “ Come on ; we’re 
going to see them.” 

Nothing that had happened so far had so completely 
overwhelmed Beth as this statement. A horse ! each 
of her young cousins owned a whole horse, a live, en- 
tire horse ! She followed her aunt and uncle up to the 
second floor of this curious stable in a maze of wonder. 

They turned to the right. There were ten airy box 
stalls, nearly as big as small bedrooms in the New York 
flats which Beth had never seen. Eight of these stalls 
were occupied. Beth did not recognize her uncle’s car- 
riage horses, because she had never seen them without 
their harnesses, but she had no eyes for them, nor for the 
beautiful, slender Yirginian saddle horses which occu- 
pied flve of the stalls. All she could see was a pony 
in the eighth stall. He was not tied and he whirled 
about and trotted up to the stall door when he heard 
his visitors coming, lifting his head and sniffing the 
air with his short, somewhat turned-up nose, hope- 
ful of a treat, while his bright eyes peered out under 
his heavy thatch of forelock. He was the color of 


144 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


coffee-and-cream, with a long, thick tail and mane, al- 
most brown. He was not a Shetland pony of the 
smallest type, but a stocky little fellow about four feet 
high and that is large for a pony, since four inches 
more than that is the greatest height allowed them by 
the proper authorities. 

“ Oh, what a dar-arling ! ” cried Beth. “ Is that 
yours, Dirk ? Will he bite ? ” 

She was at the pony’s head as she spoke, half timor- 
ously, wholly ecstatically allowing herself to be sniffed 
for sweets. 

“No; that one’s mine, that chestnut, and he’s the 
best of the bunch,” replied Dirk, going over to his 
horse’s stall, yet keeping his eye on Beth to see the fun. 

“ Well, maybe, but this pony ! Yours, Alys ? ” per- 
sisted Beth. 

“ I thought, perhaps, you would ride him, Beth,” 
said Mr. Cortlandt quietly. 

“ Me ! I ride him ? This angelic dumpling ! ” cried 
Beth beginning to tremble. 

“ Isn’t that a new brand of dumpling ? ” inquired 
her uncle, as everybody laughed. “ Of course you’re 
to do as you choose about riding your own pony. 
You may ride, or sell, or give him away, but I thought 
you’d like to ride him. He is your own, to do with as 
you please.” 

“ Mine ? My own ! This — this Oh, Uncle 

Jim, Uncle Jim ! ” And Beth, shaking like a leaf 
with the excessive, unbearable joy of this discovery, 
put her head down on the lower and closed half of the 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


145 


stall door and sobbed outright, while the pony nosed 
her, unheeded. 

Only for a moment did Beth’s joy so overwhelm her. 
Then she sprang up, frantically hugged her amused 
uncle, crushed her aunt in a tempestuous embrace and 
spun Alys, who happened to be nearest her, in a wild 
dance for an instant, much to that dignified young 
person’s horror, for the stablemen were standing by 
greatly amused. 

“ My pony, my darling ! ” Beth cried, whirling over 
to the stall again. But here caution checked her rap- 
tures. “ What can I do to him ? Will he let me hug 
him ? ” she asked. 

“ I’ll take you into his stall, miss,” said the man with 
whom Dirk had seemed to be on such friendly terms. 
“ He’s used to me and I’ll introjuice you like.” 

He opened the stall door and Beth followed him 
within, to be introduced to her own, her very own pony. 

“ You brought no sugar ? Of course not, not knowin’ 
what you was cornin’ to see! Here’s some then. I 
keep it handy in my coat-tail pockets, not knowin’ 
whin I’ll be wantin’ it to reward one or another of the 
horses. They’ll do much more for you, miss, if they 
know you’re like to be givin’ them a bit of a treat now 
an’ thin.” 

“ Everybody will,” returned Beth gravely, to the 
man’s manifest delight. 

She offered the pony a lump of sugar, at first with a 
hand somewhat shaky and too ready to withdraw, but 
quite steady at the second lump. 


146 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“ Oh, how beau-tifully mousy-velvet his nose feels ! ” 
cried Beth. “ How shall I ever go to sleep to-night ? 
And how shall I ever, ever tell Janie and Aunt Re- 
becca about him ? ” 

“We must start now, Bethie,” said Mr. Cortlandt. 
“ Tim will saddle the pony ; we must get off.” 

“ Get off ? That’s exactly what I should do. Uncle 
Jim ! ” cried Beth. “ You don’t mean I am to ride 
right straight off, to-day ? I don’t know how to ride.” 

“ But the rest of us do ! I shall keep you beside me, 
between Dirk and me. The pony has been trained for 
a little girl’s use ; he knows how to be ridden, if you 
don’t know how to ride him. Saddle him, please, Tim,” 
said Mr. Cortlandt. 

“ Yes, sir. Sure, all you have to do is to sit like he 
was a rockin’-chair, keepin’ your lines so you do be 
feelin’ his mouth easy, an’ your backbone straight, miss,” 
said Tim. “ Come now, shake hands wid your new 
mistress. Trump, an’ it’ll be out you go ! Put your hand 
down, miss, an’ bid him shake hands good-bye an’ he’ll 
do it.” 

“ Is his name Trump ? I shall never call him any- 
thing but my dearie, my darling ! Shake hands. Trump, 
you blessedest thing, you ! ” Saying which Beth held 
out her hand, palm uppermost, as Tim had bidden her, 
and Trump obligingly raised his right forefoot and of- 
fered his clean little hoof to be shaken, to the unspeak- 
able rapture of his new owner. 

Tim brought forth the most knowing looking, per- 
fect miniature saddle and bridle and put them on 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


147 


Trump, first brushing his already speckless coat lest a 
bit of dust should escape his vigilance. 

His assistants were saddling and bridling the other 
horses. If Beth had been wise enough in horse lore 
she would have known that there were few such 
beautiful creatures anywhere as the five horses making 
ready for her relatives’ ride. But, small as he was. 
Trump filled her eye to the exclusion of all else. 

The horses were led down the incline which was 
their stairway while the riders descended the steps. 
Mrs. Cortlandt discovered that Beth was trembling and 
rightly construed it as not entirely caused by her joy. 

“ You’re not to be afraid, little Beth,” she said, put- 
ting her arm around the little girl. ‘‘We would not 
for the world let you go into danger. Trump will trot 
along with his big comrades as quietly as a kitten. We 
tried him before we bought him ; Tim’s little girl rode 
him and she does not know how to ride. It is the 
easiest thing in the world to sit on that broad, steady 
back of his and he will never play you a trick.” 

“ I seem to be too — too much little Beth Bristead, 
still, to ride in New York,” said Beth faintly. 

“ Bless your heart, dear, pretend you’re Miss Elizabeth 
Bristead, then ! ” laughed Aunt Alida. “ I think when 
you’re mounted confidence will come. Besides, we are 
going over country roads just as soon as we can reach 
them.” 

Aunt Alida’s prophecy came true. When Beth was 
mounted on her entrancing gift, with her lines in her 
gauntleted hand, her stock held at precisely the correct 


148 


BETH’S WOi^DEK- WINTER 


angle, as she was bidden to hold it, and especially when 
she found how easily Uncle Jim could reach down from 
his splendid chestnut Virginian and touch Trump’s 
bridle, and when she heard that rhythmic tread of 
horses’ feet and knew that her own, her own pony’s 
feet made part of it, horsemanship flowed into her like 
an inspiration. To her uncle’s satisfaction and Dirk’s 
undisguised pride she held herself bravely erect, her 
cheeks reddened with excitement, her eyes were almost 
black, her lips parted with her rapid breathing and she 
laughed aloud as, having gained a quiet avenue, the 
horses began to trot and plucky little Trump kept 
up with them, in spite of his difference in length of 
legs. 

It was a wonderful ride, that first one ! Though it 
was but the first of many to come, each a rapture, none 
other ever could be that first one of all, with Trump 
newly owned. Oh, to watch those quick little ears, 
that tossing, ambitious little head and to know they were 
her pony’s ears, it was her pony’s head ! To feel the 
strong, warm body bearing her along and to know that 
as long as life was in it that was to be its duty ! To 
pull off her glove and pat the sturdy neck, the thick 
mane, and to know the whole wonderful little fellow 
was her Trump, her own, Beth Bristead’s ! Suddenly 
Beth lost her fear of moving in her saddle and bent for- 
ward to lay her face on the mat of mane. 

“ Oh, Trump, my darling, my darlingest ! How I 
love you ! And you are mine to have and to hold, for 
better or for worse, till death doth us part ! And you 


AFOOT AND ON HOKSEBACK 


149 


won’t die, my preciousest, because I’ll love you so you 
can’t ! ” she whispered close to the ear that she believed 
moved in response to her words and not because her 
breath tickled it. 

They rode out into the country, the pretty, hilly 
country that lies north of New York. It was a warm 
day. Winter had not set in, although it was early 
December. The fields were brown, but the air was 
soft, and though there were no birds, except the winter 
ones, the sunshine was so warm that one felt as though 
a robin or a bluebird might sing from any orchard that 
the horses trotted past. 

“We are to lunch at a good place not far beyond 
here, Beth, and if you are tired I’ll telephone back to 
have Tim come out in the car and take Trump home for 
you,” Beth’s uncle said, after a long silence between 
them. 

“ I’m not tired, Uncle Jim. I’m too happy to 
speak ; that’s all,” said Beth. “ At first I was boiling 
over, but now I’ve boiled down quiet and it’s all the 
stronger. It’s exactly like preserves — or soup.” 

Mr. Cortlandt threw back his head to laugh as boy- 
ishly as Dirk, who shouted at this speech. 

Keluctantly Beth allowed Trump to be taken from 
her by a groom when they had arrived at their destina- 
tion for lunch. It seemed impossible that any one 
they did not know could be trusted to feed and properly 
care for a pony so small and so precious as Trump. 

After a lunch that included all the things that young 
palates like best and for which the riders were hungry 


150 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


enough to have enjoyed it if it had been of the plainest 
sort, Beth and her uncle sat down in one vast lounging 
chair in a glass-enclosed corner of the hotel piazza to 
rest and chat while one of them smoked. 

“ I’d like to tell you about Frieda now, Uncle Jim, if 
you feel like listening,” began Beth, reaching up a 
hand to caress the collar of her uncle’s coat. 

Mr. Cortlandt took the wandering hand prisoner in 
one of his and stroked the fingers. “ Who is Frieda, 
Bethie ? ” he asked. 

“ My maid,” said Beth, not yet lost to the strange- 
ness of this statement. “ I’ve been wanting for days to 
tell you about her.” 

“ Better have your aunt hear it, if it’s about your 
maid,” said Mr. Cortlandt. 

“ It isn’t exactly ; it’s Liebchen,” said Beth. 

“ Better call your aunt over anyway, for you seem to 
be wandering in your mind, Bethie,” laughed Mr. 
Cortlandt, and he beckoned his wife to a chair beside 
his. 

She came over from where she was sitting and took it. 

“ Beth has something to tell us about Frieda and 
Liebchen ; I hope you may know what she means, 
Alida,” Mr. Cortlandt said. 

“ Frieda did not mean to tell me. Aunt Alida,” Beth 
hastily made sure of this explanation. “ I was talking 
to her while she was dressing me the other day and it 
all came out wdthout her knowing it would. She felt 
afraid it was wrong, or that some one would think it 
was.” 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


151 


“ But you know, Beth, that I am not an ogre,” sug- 
gested Aunt Alida. “ So tell me about it.” 

“ Frieda has a little sister nine years old. Her name 
is Lotta, but they call her Liebchen. I think that is 
nice. I wonder if I could call Trump Liebchen some- 
times ! She is an American, because she was born 
here, but she is German Frieda’s full sister. She is a 
dreadful cripple ; she can only walk a few steps with 
crutches and she can’t walk at all without them. When 
I asked Frieda if she couldn’t be cured she said it 

would cost a great deal, if it could be done. I — I 

It seems so sad, doesn’t it, to know that a little girl, 
only nine years old, and so sweet they call her Liebchen, 
is a dreadful cripple ? ” Beth ended her story lamely ; 
she could not bring herself to suggest to her uncle that 
he might have Liebchen operated upon when she came 
face to face with that issue. 

“ And you thought that we would see what could be 
done for the child, if we knew about it ? ” asked Mrs. 
Cortlandt. 

“ You could do less for me. Aunt Alida ! ” cried Beth 
eagerly. “ You are so good to me, but I don’t need 
another earthly thing ! Wouldn’t it be fine if Liebchen 
could be cured ? ” 

“ Have you seen her, Beth ? ” asked Mr. Cortlandt. 

“No, but I can imagine her, all pale and peaked, 
just lying there, and poor, and only nine ! ” cried Beth 
eagerly. 

“ An operation is exceedingly expensive, Beth,” said 
Mr. Cortlandt solemnly. “ It would require a skilful 


162 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


surgeon, of course, and a thousand dollars would hardly 
cover the cost, probably.” 

“ A thousand dollars ! Oh, Uncle Jim ! Isn’t that 
fearful ! But if I could do something— couldn’t I sell 

something, or ” She stopped, unable to suggest 

anything practical. 

‘‘ There is Trump,” said Mr. Cortlandt thoughtfully, 
watching Beth’s face. He saw her turn red, then white 
and heard her catch her breath. “ I have just bought 
that pony. I know he would sell easily — would you 
care to give up Trump to help that child, Beth ? ” 

Beth turned her face to hide it in her uncle’s shoul- 
der. She breathed hard and fast. He heard her whis- 
per : “ ‘ The sacrifice of a broken heart Thou wilt not 
despise.’ And it will break it. Uncle Jim,” she said 
sitting up, a poor, white, strained looking Beth, “ I 
will try, I will try to — to give up Trump.” 

‘‘ You’re the trump, my Bethikins ! ” cried Mr. Cort- 
landt just as Aunt Alida exclaimed : 

“James Cortlandt, you shall not torture my little 
Beth ! ” 

“ No, you won’t give up your Trump ; he is yours 
for keeps ! And, yes, I will see what can be done for 
this little Liebchen, American sister of your German 
maid ! If she can be cured, cured she shall be ! I’ve 
three healthy youngsters of my own and a plump, 
sound little niece, any of whom might have been 
crippled. And I’ve been entrusted with so much 
money, Bethie, that even if it cost two thousand dollars 
to cure that child it would not entail sacrifice on any 


AFOOT AND ON HOESEBACK 


153 


of us to pay the bill As time goes on I shall want 
you to learn what all this power means, Beth, my dear, 
and to help my girls and boy to use it wisely, unself- 
ishly. I think you are going to be exceedingly helpful 
in that way, with your warm little heart and your sen- 
sible little head ! We’ll look into Liebchen’s case at 
once, Bethie, and I’m much obliged to you for ferreting 
it out for Aunt Alida and me— aren’t we, Alida ? ” 

“ Of course we are, Jimmy dear ! ” cried Aunt Alida. 
‘‘ And it will count for Beth that she would have 
given up her dear pony, if she had to, rather than let 
Liebchen remain a cripple. So she will have a part in 
two ways in the cure, if it ever is a cure.” 

“ Oh, what dear, dear uncles and aunts you are ! ” 
cried Beth, her eyes wet with happy tears. “And 
why do people say that money is bad ? It is perfectly 
beautiful to go about doing things ! ” 

“ Poor and rich, it is all one, Bethie darling,” mur- 
mured Aunt Alida, her lips touching the little girl’s 
hair as she leaned forward in her chair to answer Beth. 
“It is the heart that makes poverty into riches, or, 
when it is a hard heart, turns riches into the most 
ghastly poverty.” 

Beth rode home that afternoon blissfully,, but seri- 
ously happy. Trump was hers, the sacrifice was not 
required of her, and at every beat of his small hoofs 
she loved him better. Yet she was thinking long 
thoughts, for a child of eleven, and she saw the road 
of her coming years stretching out before her, as the 
road she was riding stretched, growing denser, fuller 


154 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


with every pace, but full of beautiful and glorious 
possibilities. It led her into the world of grownupdom, 
where there were to be great tasks to fulfil, great good 
to be done. And little Beth, true to her great-aunt 
Rebecca’s old-fashioned, good training, prayed in her 
heart that when the time came she might not fail. 


CHAPTER X 


THE HOSPITAL OH THE HEIGHTS 
HRISTMAS has a way of jumping out at the 



world as if it had crouched down low behind 
Thanksgiving Day and hidden. Then, suddenly, out 
it pops crying : “ Ah, ha ! You didn’t know I was so 
near, did you?” Whereupon everybody gets quite 
flustered and is set rushing and hurrying upon shopping 
and working to make up for being caught unawares. 

Christmas played this favorite trick upon the Cort- 
landt family this year. He popped out upon Mrs. 
Cortlandt one morning at breakfast in the sunny, rosy 
breakfast room which had so entranced Beth on the 
night of her arrival. 

‘‘ Mercy, Jim ! ” Mrs. Cortlandt cried as her husband 
opened his newspaper. “ I suppose I knew in a vague 
way that this was the tenth day of December, but I 
haven’t taken in the fact in connection with Christmas ! 
Children, we must make out our lists to-day ; there are 
but two little weeks left ! How has it happened ? ” 

“ I’ve made mine,” said Natalie, “ and Alys has 
nearly finished hers. We found out last night that it 
was dreadfully late.” 

“ Bethie, you never did real Christmas shopping, did 


155 


156 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


you ? ” Mrs. Cortlandt said. “ It’s fun, no matter what 
the papers and magazines say about it — though of 
course one does go to bed each night of the final days 
feeling that she can’t possibly resume shopping in the 
morning ! But one always can ! Have you made out 
your list of friends you will remember ? ” 

Beth shook her head. “ No, Aunt Alida,” she said. 
“ There’s the beautiful miniature of me you’ve had 
made for Aunt Rebecca. I thought maybe I’d make 
Aunt Rebecca a pincushion for her spare room ; it’s 
shabby — I mean the one she has now is — and I’d like 
to make something for Janie and four other girls, only 
I don’t know what to make.” Beth’s brow wrinkled ; 
her eyes looked troubled. She, for one, had fully 
realized that ten days of December had fled and that 
she did not know how to prepare for Christmas in her 
new surroundings. What, for instance, could she make 
for this, her recently discovered family ? They all had 
more than she could possibly have imagined. Beth’s 
fingers were not skilful at fancy work, but buying 
gifts, and gifts for people so endowed — she would 
never be rich enough to do this, even if she could think 
of anything to buy. 

‘‘ Are you old-fashioned about Christmas, too, 
Bethie ? Do you feel that you must put part of your 
own strength and time into your gifts, not buy them ? ” 
asked Aunt Alida. “ I have a suspicion that Janie and 
the four others would rather have a pretty bit of 
jewelry to wear than anything you could make. Girls 
all love rings and bangles and chains and dangles.” 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 157 


Uncle Jim had been listening behind the outspread 
page of his morning Su7i. Uncle Jim had a habit of 
hearing when one thought him otherwise occupied, 
and of being interested in problems that one would not 
have expected a grown man to understand. That was 
the main reason why Uncle Jim was so lovable. 

Now he emerged from his paper and looked around 
its edge at Aunt Alida. 

“ I believe I forgot to say that Beth has a Christmas 
account to draw upon,” he said carelessly, as if Beth 
were not within hearing. “ Santa Claus deposited a 
hundred dollars in my hands for her. She will find 
it in your care, Alida ; I might not be near by when 
she wanted to draw upon it. Santa said he did not ap- 
prove of our buying gifts to be given in Beth’s name ; 
he said he wanted her to do her own deciding and buy- 
ing, so he handed over to me for her use the sum I 
mention. I forgot to speak of this before.” 

“ Oh, Uncle Jim ! ” cried Beth, as she always did at 
each new instance of her uncle’s generous thought of 
her. 

Words failed her, but the thrill in her voice, the quick 
flush and dilated eyes took their place. There is no 
telling what Beth might have done as the magnitude 
of her personal wealth sank into her consciousness. A 
hundred dollars! That would be almost enough to 
paint the old house at home, Beth thought ; they had 
been wishing to have it painted. 

Just then Biggs emerged from behind the swinging 
door and offered Beth the muffins with his unbending 


158 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


gravity. It prevented any outburst of gratitude to her 
uncle on Beth’s part, for Riggs’ solemn dignity froze 
Beth’s blood. 

Mr. Cortlandt was satisfied with the look in Beth’s 
eyes as she mutely thanked him. More and more he 
saw his little sister, Beth’s mother, whose life had been 
so short, in the sweet face of the child she had not lived 
to kiss a second time, and more and more he delighted 
in giving Beth pleasure, as if he were reaching back- 
ward over the years to make that lost Nannie happy. 
He nodded at Beth with entire understanding and af- 
fection. 

“ Don’t forget that you are due at the hospital to- 
day,” he reminded her. ‘‘ Santa Claus mustn’t crowd 
out your crippled Liebchen, you know.” 

“ I am going to take Beth there at half-past ten,” 
said Aunt Alida. “Send these letters to my room, 
Riggs, and have these destroyed.” She indicated the 
two piles into which she had divided her morning mail 
as she spoke. “Beth, dear, tell Frieda that after she 
has made you ready she may make herself ready to go 
to the hospital. I will take her with us on this first 
visit to her little sister.” 

“ She’ll be glad. Aunt Alida — I hope she will be glad 
after she gets there ! ” added Beth. “ They are going 
to tell us whether Liebchen can be cured, aren’t they ? ” 

“Yes. They operated yesterday afternoon. I am 
sure I hope the poor child may walk again,” said Aunt 
Alida, rising from breakfast. “ Natalie, Alys, Dirk, 1 
want a good report from the schoolroom to-day. Beth 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 159 


is playing at education this winter, as she is playing at 
being a visitor to Wonderland, but it must be real work 
for you, my dears.” 

“ Yes, mother,” said Alys dutifully. Alys was the 
one who was most inclined to slip as easily as possible 
through lessons. But there was a quality in this mar- 
velous Aunt Alida’s gentleness that made her children 
obey her when she issued one of her rare commands. 

Beth ran up to her room, not waiting for the eleva- 
tor and the others. She opened the door of her room ; 
its delicate beauty seemed to come forward to meet her, 
as if she saw it for the first time. There was a bunch 
of violets and ferns on a small teakwood table ; their 
sweetness filled the air, spring seemed to be fiooding in 
at the windows through the delicate net, past the folds 
of the blue velour curtains, on the brilliant light of the 
cloudless sunshine of a New York early winter morning. 

Oh, Frieda, what a lovely, lovely young room this 
is, all white and blue ! ” cried Beth. “ Where did the 
violets come from ? ” 

“ Miss Alys left them. She said youM know why,” 
said Frieda. 

Beth flushed with pleasure; she did know why. 
Alys had been a little bit cross the night before and she 
and Beth came near having a small quarrel. These 
violets were to say Alys was sorry. 

“ She’s dear, too ! ” cried Beth, in high satisfaction, 
meaning that Natalie and Dirk were not her only lova- 
ble cousins, though so far she had to try not to like 
them a great deal better than Alys. 


160 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“ Aunt Alicia said that you were to go with us to the 
hospital, Frieda. You are to get ready after you have 
helped me dress. But I will dress myself, so you can 
get ready now,” said Beth indistinctly, her face buried 
in the violets. 

“ Mrs. Cortlandt is too kind ! ” cried Frieda tremu- 
lously. “ I was wondering how I ever could wait till 
you got home to hear about Liebchen.” 

“Especially as we may not come straight home,” 
added Beth. “ Aunt Alida is going to get ready for 
Christmas as fast as she can; she didn’t know how 
near it was till she happened to see the newspaper date 
this morning. If you will do my hair, Frieda, I can go 
on dressing alone. I do wonder what Aunt Rebecca 
would have said if I had had to have help getting 
dressed at home ! ” Frieda threw Beth’s dressing scarf 
over her shoulders as the little girl seated herself before 
the dressing table. Beth adjusted the pale blue rib- 
bons that tied the neck and sleeves with the satisfac- 
tion this dainty garment always inspired. 

Frieda shook out the fly-away masses of Beth’s pretty 
hair with much the same satisfaction that Beth felt in 
the filmy scarf, Beth’s hair was growing beautiful 
under her maid’s skilful treatment and Frieda liked 
nothing so much as adorning Beth. She had lost her 
heart to her little lady at their first meeting and, since 
Beth had tried to help Liebchen, Frieda’s love for her 
was with difficulty kept within the bounds of a maid’s 
relation to her charge — not that Beth would have minded 
if it overstepped those bounds I 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 161 


“ When I was in Germany, Miss Beth, the young 
countess I served had hair much like your own, but I 
truly believe by spring yours will be handsomer than 
hers was,” said Frieda, holding the golden strands 
toward the light. 

“A countess! Frieda, honest?” cried Beth deeply 
impressed. “ I thought you were only a little girl when 
you left Germany.” 

“ I went back to an aunt to be taught a lady’s maid’s 
work. Miss Beth,” said Frieda. “ And my aunt got me 
into the service of the Herr Graf von Witzleben, to 
attend the young Grafin Elise. I was glad to come 
back to New York, Miss Beth. But she had beautiful 
hair, Grafin Elise. I mean to make yours handsomer.” 

Beth sighed, a long breath of emotion. ‘‘ I’ve read 
about earls and countesses aU my life and I’ve seen 
pictures of them going around with coronets and long 
velvet gowns, in ballads and English history, but I 
never, never in all this world expected to have some 
one do my hair and brush it till it was better than the 
beautiful hair of a real, live countess, whose hair she 
had brushed before mine ! Frieda, there isn’t a single 
thing, not one single thing, I honestly believe, that is 
in a story-book that doesn’t come out of it and get into 
my true story this winter ! Nor in fairy stories, either. 
When I go back home again I’m pretty near sure I 
won’t know whether I was a real girl this winter, or 
one I read about.” 

For once Frieda permitted herself to laugh outright. 

“ There couldn’t be a story too good for you. Miss 


162 


BETH'S WOi^DEE-WINTEE 


Beth dear,” she said. “And as to noble ladies in 
Europe they're not so much different. A fine lady is a 
fine lady ; if you call her just ‘ Miss ' and she’s an 
American, or if you call her ‘ my lady ’ and she’s some- 
thing else. She’s only a lady all the same and it makes 
nothing out what you call her. Mrs. Cortlandt is a far 
grander lady to my thinking than the cross mother of 
my little Lady Elise over there, not to speak of how 
handsome the one is and how awful plain the other 
was. It’s likely there’ll be some nobility from Europe 
dining with your aunt this winter ; they’re often over, 
and you’ll see lords and ladies are just like Mister and 
Missuses.” 

“ Then I’d rather not see them,” said Beth decidedly. 
“ I should not want to stop thinking a noble earl was 
above a man. Only I do think Uncle Jim could be a 
king and not be one bit more splendid than he is as his 
regular self.” 

Beth, her hair in perfect order, insisted upon being 
allowed to finish her toilette unaided while Frieda 
made herself ready for their expedition. The result 
was that young mistress and maid were ready at the 
same time. Beth ran down to her aunt’s room to re- 
port herself dressed and Frieda repaired to the maids’ 
sitting-room to wait till she should be called. 

Beth found Anna Mary folding a soft pink wrapper 
and packing it into a suit-case in which already lay lace- 
trimmed white garments and some attractive looking 
books. Anna Mary’s face expressed grim disapproval, 
but in reality she had eagerly sorted out these gifts for 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 


163 


Liebchen and she felt pleasure in making them ready to 
go to her. 

Aunt Alida gathered up her splendid furs, nestling 
her chin into their cloudy softness as she smiled over 
them at Beth. 

“ I have had Anna Mary get together some outgrown 
garments which belonged to Alys,” she said. “ They 
should be nearly the right size for Frieda’s little sister. 
And the girls selected a few of their fairy tales and a 
story they thought Liebchen would enjoy. Mrs. Hodg- 
man is having a basket of fruit and jellies made ready. 
Shall we go now, Beth dear ? ” 

“I’m ready. Aunt Alida, and Frieda came down 
when I did. How lovely it is. Aunt Alida, to look the 
way you do in those furs and yet be as good as you are 
beautiful, taking things to the hospital ! ” cried Beth 
sincerely. 

Anna Mary looked up with a smile and Mrs. Cort- 
landt actually blushed. 

“ You funny little Beth,” she cried. “ Do you think 
it proves goodness to like to give pleasure to a sick 
child ? A Hottentot would want to.” 

“ You’re not very Hottentotish,” remarked Beth, fol- 
lowing her aunt out of the room, while Anna Mary 
brought up the rear with the suit-case. 

In the hall below they found Mrs. Hodgman wait- 
ing with a maid in charge of a basket that in itself was 
as refreshing as an orchard ; green and white it was, 
made of shining braided straw, with a big tonic red bow 
triumphing on its handle. 


164 


BETH’S WOKDER-WINTEE 


‘‘ The car is at the door, Mrs. Cortlandt,” said Mrs. 
Hodgman. “ Kitty, you may set the basket in the car 
and then call Frieda. I have grapes and oranges, Mrs. 
Cortlandt, and several glasses of jellies and preserves, 
lemons, in case the child is feverish, figs — I can’t 
recall precisely all that was put into the basket. 
Here are the flowers you ordered for Miss Beth to 
take.” 

“I am sure the basket holds all that it possibly 
can of the wisest selection, Mrs. Hodgman,” said Aunt 
Alida, with the smile that made every one who served 
her feel rewarded. “ Here is Frieda. Good-morning, 
Frieda. Don’t look so anxious, child ; I am sure we are 
to hear the best of tidings. Come, my Bethie.” 

They repaired to the car, the chauffeur held the door 
open and arranged the robes, w^hile Anna Mary gave a 
touch to Mrs. Cortlandt’s furs that was not needed and 
which showed that austere person concealed affection 
for her mistress under her severity. With less noise 
and fuss than a car that held itself less proudly would 
have made, they got under way and glided smoothly 
over the asphalt, up the avenue. 

“ Take the park to a Hundred and Tenth Street, 
Leon,” Mrs. Cortlandt ordered the chauffeur, catching 
the gleam in Beth’s eyes as she looked over the border- 
ing wall of the park at the trees and the sunny malls 
with the prettiest children in the world romping down 
them. 

Leon Charette obediently turned in at the entrance 
gate and they slowly made their way northward, one of 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 165 


a procession of cars and carriages going in the same 
direction, though not in such numbers as would be out 
later in that glorious day. 

Beth could hardly sit still ; the splendors of human 
beings, big and little, of cars, above all the perfect 
horses and the beauty of the park had not grown fa- 
miliar to her. Central Park was like an enchanted 
forest of her wonder tales ; it gathered up romance, 
poetry, the Field of the Cloth of Gold and fairy revels, 
and made them visible to her ; made her even a part 
of them. 

“ I never, never can make Janie understand how it 
looks,” Beth sighed, out of a long silence. 

“ You must have your Janie here for a visit another 
winter,” laughed Aunt Alida. 

Beth thanked her with a look, but did not reply. 
She pondered this suggestion for a long time. “ An- 
other winter ! ” Did Aunt Alida expect her to spend 
another mnter in this new world ? What would Aunt 
Bebecca say to that ? And poor Aunt Kebecca, alone 
in the old house ! Was Beth a heartless child to let 
her pulses leap and her breath come quick at the thought 
of coming back to this enchanted life ? 

“ I’m pretty sure I should be homesick after I had 
time ; you do like things you have first, even if they 
aren’t very likable,” Beth said, unexpectedly to her- 
self, aloud. 

Aunt Alida laughed again; she seemed to guess 
Beth’s train of thought. 

“ And some of us manage to like things because we 


166 


BETH^S WONDEE-WINTEE 


ought to, but not many of us, and it is not a genuine 
singing-in-the-heart liking when we do ! ” she said. 

“No, it isn’t,” agreed Beth gravely. “It keeps 
quiet. I guess it takes all its breath to be a liking at 
all, so it can’t sing.” 

The car turned out of the park, westward, at the 
uppermost gate. It came into a broad street through 
which one caught a glimpse of heights that Beth had 
not seen before, crowned by a great cathedral and a 
building which Aunt Alida pointed out. 

“There is the hospital, Beth,” she said. “That is 
our destination.” 

“ It looks kind and not in the least sorry,” said Beth. 

At the hospital Mrs. Cortlandt led the way into the 
entrance hall. Leon carried in the basket, Frieda took 
the suit-case. An attendant came forward and, when 
Mrs. Cortlandt explained her errand, ushered them into 
a waiting-room and disappeared. In a short time they 
were bidden to follow a pleasant-faced young woman, 
in a uniform and cap, to see Liebchen. 

“She is in a remarkably satisfactory condition,” 
smiled the nurse, looking at Frieda, divining that she 
was chiefly concerned in this report. “ It is too soon 
to teU how much has been accomplished by the opera- 
tion, but the child is doing remarkably well.” 

Frieda caught Beth’s hand without knowing that she 
did so, and Beth returned its pressure. When big 
things arrive, little things, like differences in station, 
disappear like wax in heat. 

Mr. Cortlandt had taken a room for Liebchen. When 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 167 


the door opened Beth saw at once that it was a pleas- 
ant room, sunny and attractive, though plain and white. 
On the bed lay a child, pale and thin, but with eyes 
alight as she watched for the opening of the door. She 
was a decidedly pretty child, but there was something 
so sweet in her face that one thought more of its lov- 
ableness than of its prettiness. 

“ Oh, meine Frieda ! ” cried Liebchen holding out 
her hands ; her arms she could not move. 

“ Liebchen ! ” cried Frieda, and kissed the little 
creature with all her heart. “ And here is Mrs. Cort- 
landt who is doing it all for you, kleine Liebchen. And 
Miss Beth,” added Frieda. 

Liebchen smiled shyly, but with eyes warm with 
love. “ I should say thank you, only it gives no big 
enough way to say it,” Liebchen said softly. 

“ Frieda, help Beth open our budgets, please,” 
cried Aunt Alida, nodding at the child and rightly 
guessing that their baskets would further acquaint- 
ance. 

Beth had the covering Japanese napkins off the basket 
in a twinkling. In no time at all Liebchen’s room 
looked like a creditable pantry; fruit and glasses of 
good things adorned the dresser and table and window 
sill, while Liebchen’s nurse looked on with her face 
quite shut up with smiles. 

“ I do so like to take care of a child whose case allows 
dainties ! ” she cried. 

Liebchen was overcome when the contents of the 
suit-case, the fine night-gowns, the lacy skirts, the soft 


168 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


wrapper, like a great rose, overflowed on bed and 
chairs. 

“ Oh, mj, oh, my, oh, my ! ” cried Liebchen. “ It 
won’t be enough for me to walk ; I’ll have to dance 
when I’m up once ! ” 

“You may dance, little Liebchen; if you can walk 
you can dance ! ” cried Mrs. Cortlandt. “ Frieda, you 
are to stay with Liebchen until the nurse says you must 
go. Miss Beth will not be at home for some hours, so 
you are welcome to stay. I am going to ask that my 
little niece be shown the wards, hastily, for we have 
scant time, but she has never seen a hospital. Do you 
think we may go through a ward or two ? ” she added 
to the nurse. 

“Surely. I will ring for an attendant,” said the 
nurse, carrying out her intention. 

Beth went over and bent down to Liebchen. “ You’re 
a dear and I know you will run like the other kind of a 
deer soon. And I’m so glad, you don’t know ! ” 

Liebchen put a hand on each of Beth’s cheeks to 
draw her face closer and kiss it. “I love you, love 
you ! ” she whispered. “ F rieda told me I should, but you 
are a million times prettier and nicer than I thought 
you were. If I get able to walk do you s’pose you’d 
let me come and button you up the back some day, 
’stead of Frieda ? ” 

Beth laughed. “ We’ll do something better than 
that ! ” she cried, not knowing what it would be, but 
full of undefined intentions for Liebchen’s future glad- 
ness. “ Good-bye, Liebchen ! It’s such a nice name, 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 


169 


only you can’t say dear, or anything with it, because 
it’s that itself ! Maybe I can come again, but anyway 
you will come to see me and that’s better.” 

She waved her hand back as she stood in the door- 
way. Of all the happiness she had tasted in her life 
Beth had never had a sip of anything so sweet as the 
thought that she had brought about Liebchen’s chance 
to get well. And, besides, it was delightful to feel 
that Liebchen was such a little girl regarded from the 
summit of Beth’s additional two years ! 

Under the guidance of a hospital attendant Beth 
followed her aunt into one of the great public wards 
of the hospital. It was not visiting day nor hour, but 
Mrs. James Cortlandt was a privileged person, as Beth 
discovered. She did not know then, but later on 
learned that her uncle was a large contributor to this 
hospital and that her beautiful aunt’s father had been 
one of its founders. 

The ward was wide and long, marvelously clean, with 
its white plaster walls and row upon row of narrow 
white iron beds. But Beth walked silently down its 
length, and, after a few steps, slipped her hand into 
Aunt Alida’s. The patients on the beds looked com- 
fortable, but there were so many of them and most of 
the faces were worn, as if the pain that brought them 
hither was only a small part of suffering patiently 
borne. One or two of the beds had screens around 
them. Beth wondered why, for she saw that Aunt 
Alida tried to withdraw her attention from them. She 
guessed that within the screens were worse cases than 


170 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


those allowed to lie in the sunshine of the undivided 
ward. 

At last the visit was over. Beth drew a breath of 
relief as they came down into the entrance hall. In 
the car she snuggled close to Aunt Alida and slipped a 
hand into her roomy muff. 

“ Didn’t you like to see the hospital, Bethie ? ” asked 
Aunt Alida. 

“ It is sad, don’t you think so ? ” said Beth. “ Lieb- 
chen was all happy ; so was her room. But so many, 
so dreadfully many, all sick at once ! And lots more 
we didn’t see ! All in rows, sort of like ears of corn. 
It seems awful to be sick in a row like that ! ” 

‘‘ That isn’t the way to look at it, Bethie,” said Mrs. 
Cortlandt, succeeding in stifling a laugh. “If these 
people had not a bed in a hospital row, where do you 
suppose they would be ill ? Many of them in homes 
far more crowded than a row, without order or cleanli- 
ness, without any one who understood nursing, without 
the implements of nursing. Some of them would not 
have any home to be sick in, not even the crowded 
tenement room. The hospital is not a sad place ; it is 
a cheerful place. Since there is sickness and suffering, 
the one comfort is that the hospital gives the poor a 
chance to get well again. The ward is bright and 
sunny. I’m always thankful there are hospitals when 
I visit one. Try to see the glad side of things, not the 
sad side, my Beth ! ” 

“ Yes, Aunt Alida, I do. Only that made me think 
of that psalm I learned by heart last-: ‘A thousand 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 171 


shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right 
hand.’ I felt as if all those little beds were pavements 
and I was walking on people fallen on them, ‘at my 
side and at my right hand,’ don’t you know *? And it 
does smell perfectly awfully strong of carbolic ! ” Beth 
ended with a shudder. 

“ Don’t you like carbolic, Beth ? I don’t mind it ; 
it is so clean ! ” laughed Mrs. Cortlandt. “ Say to 
yourself: ‘I don’t like carbolic, but neither do all 
those wicked little harm-working germs ! ’ Dear Beth, 
the main thing to think of when you see any form of 
suffering is what a blessed thing it is that mankind has 
been taught to be merciful, and to wonder what you 
can do to help the sadder side of the world.” 

“ Just as you do ! ” cried Beth with a closer snuggle. 
“ Only to think that Aunt Kebecca was afraid I’d be 
spoiled if she let me come to New York where you were 
rich and worldly ! ” 

This time Mrs. Cortlandt did not try to keep back 
her laughter ; it rang out girlishly. “ You funny little 
Beth, there are two ways to love the world. One is to 
take all it can give you and pay no debt to it, but 
to live so selfishly and heartlessly, so wickedly, in all 
sorts of ways, that you help to make it a worse world 
than you found it. And the other is to take its gifts 
gratefully and try to repay them, and live so kindly, 
so lovingly, so purely that you leave the world when 
you die, a trifle better than when you came into it. 
And people with a little money can do either of these 
things as well as richer people. Don’t you see, dear, 


172 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


that worldliness and other- worldliness are in each heart, 
not in a safe deposit vault ? ’’ said dear Aunt Alida. 

“ Of course I see, Aunt Alida ! I shouldn’t wonder 
if people were worldlier when they hadn’t much world 
and wanted it, than when they’ve lots of it,” said Beth. 

“ Harken to the philosopher Elizabeth ! ” laughed 
Aunt Alida. “ ‘ Far-off hills are green,’ chicken ; I sus- 
pect that is often true. Now let us discuss giving 
instead of having. Tell me your Christmas list and 
what you mean to give each one on it. It is high time 
we were about our Christmasing.” 

“I don’t have to make a list, Aunt Alida. I can 
easily count up all I want to give Christmas presents 
to ; I did this morning, at breakfast. Only there are 
Natalie, Alys and Dirk ; I couldn’t put them in when 
they were there. And I never could think of a quarter 
of what they have, so I’m sure I’ll never be able to 
think of one thing they haven’t ! I might just as well 
try to think of something for the Queen as for them ! 
I was wondering if you could tell me. Aunt Alida ? ” 
suggested Beth. 

“ Alys asked me to get her a certain bangle. I’ll 
leave it for you to get, if you like it, Beth. And Dirk 
wants a fountain pen ‘that will fount,’ as he says. 
Natalie — what was it Natalie spoke of the other day ? 
A little hanging model of a Grecian lamp. She wants 
it to burn all night, instead of electricity or gas. Your 
eldest cousin is reaching the aesthetic age, Bethie ! 
How would those suggestions please you ? It is such 
a comfort to know what a person wants ! I was going 


THE HOSPITAL ON THE HEIGHTS 173 


to fulfil these desires of the children’s, but I’ll hand 
them over to you, if you like. We are on our way to 
the shopping district ; you shall see the lamp and the 
bangle,” said Mrs. Cortlandt, throwing herself into 
Beth’s plans just as heartily as she lent herself to more 
important things. 

Beth felt this and allowed herself to hug her aunt, 
albeit they were driving slowly down the western side 
of the park and emotions are not ordinarily displayed 
in the oars and carriages there. 

“ Aunt Alida, you are perfectly angelically darling ! ” 
Beth declared. “ You never seem to think anything 
doesn’t matter, and you never have one bit a there-go- 
along-and-play, child, and-don’t-bother-me way ! You 
don’t even think it.” 

“ Beth, child, how could I think all that ? There 
aren’t enough hyphens in my mind to string so many 
words together in my thoughts ! ” cried Aunt Alida. 
And, quite unashamed, she hugged Beth back again. 


CHAPTEK XI 


KEIS KRINOLE’S jingles 

“ TT’S funny,” said Beth thoughtfully. “ New' York 

A seemed to be doing all sorts of things when I came, 
and till now, and now it doesn’t seem to be doing any- 
thing else but get ready for Christmas.” 

“ Those are not really automobile horns you hear ; 
they are Kris Kringle’s jingles ! ” laughed Natalie, 
pausing with the slender tip of her small screw pencil 
on her lip. 

“ What did Helen Yan Yoort send us last year, 
Nat V ” asked Alys. Her brow was drawn by a vertical 
line of puzzle and her voice sounded worried. “ I can’t 
remember whether she joined the C. C. C. or not, so I 
can’t tell whether to put her in the much or little 
column.” 

“ She sent us each a flower pin, don’t you remember ? 
You liked mine better than yours. They were good 
ones. She belongs in the muchies,” replied Natalie. 

Beth looked her curiosity over this cryptic conver- 
sation. Natalie saw the question in her eyes and 
laughed again. 

“ The C. C. C.’s are a club of girls. The three C’s 
stand for Commonsense Christmas Contributions. I 
named it. It means that the members will not go 
174 


KEIS KEINGLE’S JINGLES 


175 


above a dollar in buying Christmas presents. Some of 
the girls joined and some didn’t. I’ll tell you one 
thing : it sounds all right, and we did it because there 
is such a crowd of girls whom we all know that it runs 
up to a fearful sum to buy decent things for each one ! 
Besides we know a few who are really nicer girls, come 
from better families, than some of the richer ones, yet 
who haven’t enough to spend to afford fine gifts all 
around. But you have to work so hard to think up 
things for a dollar, and then spend so much time chas- 
ing around shops to get them, that you really might as 
well spend more than a dollar — it costs more than 
money to get through. Alys and I gave it up ; some 
of the girls hold on. It’s terrible to try to remember 
which are Three C’s and which aren’t ! You must send 
little gifts to the members, of course, or they’ll be dis- 
gusted that you got something expensive for them, 
when you’re supposed to know they’re C’s.” Natalie 
reached the end of this lengthy explanation with relief. 

“ But you have a long list ! ” cried Beth, glancing at 
the pad on which Natalie had been setting down names 
and at its counterpart on Alys’s knee. Only in a few 
cases had there been an article written down after a 
name and of these several had an interrogation mark 
after them, showing that these articles had not been 
finally decided upon. 

“ About seventy-five, not counting the family and 
the servants ! ” cried Alys fretfully. 

“ But at a dollar apiece — would that be little to 
spend for Christmas ? ” asked Beth. 


176 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


“ Tell us about your Christmases, little Cozbeth,” 
said Natalie gently. 

“ At home ? ” asked Beth, flushing. “ Well, there 
aren’t any big stores in town. Some people send to 
Boston for their presents; lots of people buy from 
catalogues. Of course we have a Sunday-school cele- 
bration. Aunt Rebecca mostly gives me sensible 
things, things I’d have to have some time. Janie and 

I ” Beth stopped. She found it hard to describe 

the little gifts that she and Janie made each other with 
those long lists lying under her eyes upon her cousins’ 
knees. For the first time since she had really known 
them, she felt half afraid of Natalie and Alys. 

“Janie and you got each other some nice little thing 
that you each knew the other wanted, or else made 
something,” Natalie said, with her mother’s tactful 
kindness. “ That’s the best way to keep Christmas, 
but you can’t help doing as Romans do when you’re in 
Rome. Did you decide on everything you were going 
to get, Beth ? ” 

Beth shook her head. “ There aren’t many people I 
know,” she said, holding up a sheet of paper. “ Janie 
and Daisy and Nell and Edith and May and Ruth — 
that’s all the girls. I’m going to subscribe for maga- 
zines for Aunt Rebecca ; she’s crazy to read and she 
has used up ’most everything in the Public Library. I 
put down some sensible things for some people who 
haven’t any money. And I’m going to buy a lovely 
rose pink dress for Miriam Gaines. She’s a cripple 
from scarlet fever, but she’s young and I’m pretty sure 


KEIS KEINGLE’S JINGLES 


177 


she’d love a pink dress. People will all ask her why I 
ever in this world got her that, why I didn’t buy her a 
dark wrapper that would be useful. But I’m going to 
get a sort of dancing dress, ready made, as rose colored 
as it can be, and I sort of know Miriam will have a fit 
over it. I believe she’ll think she’s going to get well, 
else such a dress wouldn’t come for her ; I can see her 
just living on it ! And on Fourth of July, or days like 
that, I guess she’ll get her mother to put it on her. I 
think Christmas presents ought to be lovely, useless 
things that make you think things like fairy tales, even 
if they never come true. It seems to match Santa 
Claus stories better than sensible things do. Maybe 
they are useful things, if they make people happy.” 

“ Where could you have learned such heart wisdom, 
my Beth ? ” asked Mrs. Cortlandt. She had come in 
quietly behind Beth and her voice close beside her 
chair made the little girl jump. “ That’s the trouble 
with this campaign for useful Christmas gifts ; people 
test usefulness by the sense of touch. If you three 
lassies are ready, we’ll go shopping.” 

“ We’ll never be ready, mama,” sighed Alys. “We 
may as well start out and get what we know we want ; 
it will take nearly every day from now on, anyway.” 

Beth’s eyes dilated, then she looked a little cast 
down. “ It wouldn’t take long to get my things, but 
I’d be glad to have them in the house a while to gloat 
over them,” she said. 

Mrs. Cortlandt laughed, as she always laughed at 
Beth’s funny seriousness. 


178 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


“ Here is half of your Christmas spending money,” 
she said, straightening Beth’s hair ribbon by way of a 
caress. “ Your uncle left me the hundred for you, but 
I brought you only half ; you will have to shop more 
than once.” 

“ Half ! ” cried Beth, turning pale at the thought of 
being responsible for such a sum. “Fifty dollars? 
Oh, Aunt Alida, you’d better let me leave almost all of 
that here ! Aunt Eebecca carries large sums like that 
in the waist of her dress when she goes to Boston to 
shop — she doesn’t often go ! But I’d not have any 
place to carry it safely, because I button up in the back 
and I’d never be able to get it out.” 

At this speech FTatalie and Alys collapsed and Aunt 
Alida fairly shook Beth in a funny ecstasy of enjoy- 
ment of her. 

“ Uncle Jim was quite right : you are an Anomaly and 
a Survival, you little animate New England primer ! ” 
she cried. “ Keep your purse hand in your muff till 
you are ready to use the money, and touch your selec- 
tions with one hand only ! Meet me down-stairs in 
half an hour, lassies.” 

Aunt Alida hurried away with this injunction and 
Beth seized the opportunity to consult her cousins in 
regard to a gift for her, just as she had consulted Aunt 
Alida for them. 

“ Oh, no one ever knows what to get for mama,” 
cried Alys. “ Lots of her friends ask us, but we never 
know. We three are going to have our pictures taken 
for her and, if we can, we are going to get father to 


KRIS KRIKGLE’S JINGLES 


179 


sit, too. That would really please her, for there is no 
picture of him, except dreadful snapshot things, since 
we were babies. You have your picture taken with 
ours and we’ll get them framed prettily. You have 
yours alone, and then in a group with Dirk and us, and 
help us coax father to sit, and that will be the best 
thing you could give mama.” 

“ Isn’t that a little — sort of conceited ? In me, I 
mean. Kot you, because of course she’d love a picture 
of her own children. But wouldn’t it be queer in me 
to think she’d rather have my picture than — well, any- 
thing else ? ” asked Beth. 

“Now, Bethie, don’t pretend you don’t know that 
mama loves you ! ” cried Natalie. 

“ Yes, better than our other cousins, her own nieces 
and nephews. She’d love a nice picture of you. There’s 
a splendid place on the avenue where we’re going ; real 
portrait pictures they take,” Alys chimed in. “Oh, 
and why not send one to all your old friends in Massa- 
chusetts — send it instead of a Christmas card, to tell 
them where your present comes from ! And two or 
three different ones to your friend Janie.” 

“ Alys has an idea, Beth ! ” added Natalie, refrain- 
ing from suggesting what a hole this would make in 
Beth’s Christmas allowance and privately resolving to 
get her father to pay so much toward these pictures 
that Beth should never know what their actual cost had 
been. 

“ Well,” Beth submitted to their wisdom, “ And for 
Uncle Jim ? Is there anything on earth he wants ? I 


180 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


thought I’d like to make him and your mother some- 
thing.” 

“ Make father a case to carry his traveling slippers 
in,” said Natalie promptly. “ You can easily do it ; 
just an oblong with a flap ; he will put it in his bag 
when he goes away for a night. It is a case to keep 
the slippers from touching other things — a white tie, 
for instance I If we don’t get ready we shall keep 
mama waiting. She always allows us enough time and 
then has no mercy on us for being behindhand. Mama 
demands punctuality from us in all our engagements.” 

“ Aunt Kebecca always says ‘ procrastination is the 
thief of time ’ and that if I get into the habit of being 
late I’ll be doubly dishonest, stealing my own time and 
other people’s too. It’s really strange how much alike 
Aunt Alida and Aunt Eebecca are in their way of 
seeing things, though they certainly aren’t one bit alike 
any other way, and Aunt Eebecca never would believe 
they could be alike at all,” said Beth scrambling her 
papers and pencil together and hastening off to prepare 
for her first extensive shopping on her own account. 

It was noon when the Cortlandt car joined the line 
of its fellows skirmishing in and out before the doors 
of the great shops in and around Thirty-fourth Street. 
It deposited its four occupants at a vast plate glass 
doorway and disappeared to allow its successor to come 
up and to wait until it should be summoned to resume 
its passengers. 

With what seemed to Beth like superhuman swift- 
ness Natalie and Alys selected the gifts upon which 


KBIS KRINGLE’S JINGLES 


181 


they had already determined, said briefly : “ Charged 
and sent,” and went on to the next purchase. 

After a while Beth, too, woke up from her maze and 
decided upon her gifts for the girls at home. She 
found herself in possession of four bangles, almost 
alike, slender golden hoops, for the four girls who 
stood in the second tier of friendship toward her; 
these bangles were to be marked with the girls’ initials 
and sent to her uncle’s later, each in an alluring square 
box with white velvet lining. 

She also found that she had bought for Janie an 
exquisite little circle brooch, set with sapphires, which, 
Beth foresaw, would match Janie’s eyes, and which 
Beth found appropriate, as well as satisfactory, for the 
clerk assured her that brooches of this sort were called 
“ Friendship circles,” and that their endlessness was an 
emblem of true friendship, such as she knew hers and 
Janie’s would prove to be. 

Aunt Alida, too, bought in this shop, so glorified by 
great spaces, fine bronzes, glittering gems, that it 
seemed ridiculous to speak of it as a shop. She bought 
swiftly and decidedly, at times secretly, so that the 
lynx-eyed girls did not know what it was that she had 
quickly ordered “ charged and sent.” But she selected 
many things that Beth did see, with awe and admira- 
tion. Trinkets “ for her girls’ other cousins,” she said, 
for her friends, silver mesh purses, beautiful things in 
leather and glass, as well as in gold, silver and jewels. 

Beth recalled the three little shops at home, the 
gimcracks that were not pretty, nor useful, which ap- 


182 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEB 


peared in them at this season, Janie’s and her own 
shopping in them, their long discussions over articles 
that cost about a quarter, or half, of a dollar, for which 
they had long saved their spending money ! She 
deliberately pricked herself with the pin of Janie’s 
brooch to see if she were really here in the body, not 
dreaming in her small iron bed, in that far-olf Massa- 
chusetts chamber which was hers. 

Natalie saw her do this and demanded the reason 
for it. 

Nothing,” said Beth blushing. “ Have you other 
cousins, Natalie ? I haven’t any but you. It seems 
queer that you have any but me.” 

“Mother’s sister’s boys and her brother’s girls,” 
replied Natalie. “The girls are in California; Aunt 
Justine is not well. The boys are living in Washing- 
ton, the state. Uncle Hubert wanted them to study 
scientific agriculture, so he bought a big farm there. I 
suppose they will come east again. Of course you 
haven’t any cousins but us ; father had no other sister 
but your mother, no brother. Oh, I forgot there 
might be Bristead cousins ! Aren’t there ? ” 

“ No,” said Beth. “ My father was the youngest of 
five children and the other four died of diphtheria, all 
together, when he was a baby. It must have been 
awful for their mother. Of course it kept me from 
any Bristead cousins, too.” 

“We will lunch now, my dears; it is high time,” 
Aunt Alida interposed just then, opportunely, for 
Natalie hardly knew how to reply with proper 


KEIS KEINGLE'S JINGLES 


183 


sympathy to this story whose tragedy seemed spent 
and impersonal now. 

Aunt Alida took her three to lunch at a place of the 
utmost perfection. Beth was getting used to imposing 
restaurants and they no longer took away her appetite. 
But the music of the small, but excellent orchestra 
made eating difficult ; Beth was helpless under the 
spell of good music. Aunt Alida had chosen this place 
for its orchestra, knowing how Beth would enjoy it ; for 
her own part she preferred music and eating separate. 

“Is that three-quarter, or four-four time. Aunt 
Alida ? ” Beth asked after a long silence. 

“Six-eight, dear. Why? And I didn’t know you 
had been taught music,” cried Aunt Alida. 

“ I was beginning to be taught ; a new young lad}^ 
came to live in our town and she was teaching me. I 
hadn’t gone far. The reason I asked was that I was 
trying to eat my roll in time and I couldn’t make my 
teeth keep right with four-four counting. No wonder, 
if it was six-eight ! I didn’t have much in six-eight 
time, but I like it ; it seems to go right along, so smooth 
and nice,” said Beth. 

And this speech caused Alys to choke so violently 
over her lunch that it was a long while before she could 
stop coughing and eat again in any time whatever. 

“I think I shall send Anna Mary with you to do 
some of your shopping, Beth,” said Aunt Alida. “ She 
can take you to places where you can buy your serv- 
iceable articles for the people at home who have, 
as you said, ‘ no money,’ and where you can find the 


184 


BETH’S WONDER-WINTER 


rosy evening gown at lower prices than in this neigh- 
borhood. It will not matter if the dancing gown is not 
the very last utterance of fashionable magnificence, 
will it, dear ? ” 

“ No, indeed ! ” cried Beth, “ I’ve been wondering 
if there weren’t any places in New York where they 
kept bargains. I think a bargain evening dress would 
be just the thing for a lame girl who wouldn’t ever wear 
it, don’t you ? ” 

“ I really do,” smiled Aunt Alida. She laid a crisp 
bill on the salver the waiter offered her and arose with- 
out waiting for him to return with change. Nothing 
so impressed and distressed little Beth’s frugal mind as 
the reckless way in which her aunt and uncle left 
change to be gathered up by those who served them in 
public places. 

“ Now, girleens, no more shopping to-day ! ” an- 
nounced Aunt Alida as they entered the car. “ I am 
going to a tea this afternoon and this evening to the 
opera, so I must rest and dress for the tea. Natalie, 
you and Alys and Beth had bettet* ride ; the afternoon 
is beautiful. I hope Dirk may be found to join you. 
We’ll drive around by the stable and tell Tim to be 
ready to go with you at — half -past three.” Aunt Alida 
consulted the tiny watch on her wrist before mention- 
ing the hour. 

‘‘ That’s good ! I’ve been wishing for Trump, Aunt 
Alida,” cried Beth. 

“ I’ve no doubt he wishes for you, or at least would 
like to go out,” said Aunt Alida. “ Beth, what else do 


KEIS KKINGLE’S JINGLES 


185 


you wish for ? You are too big to write letters to Santa 
Claus, so you must be big enough to consult on your 
own Christmas presents.” 

“ Aunt Alida, there isn’t a thing, not one thing that 
I really want,” declared Beth earnestly. “ There are 
lots of things I see that I’d like to have when I see 
them, but I see so many that I forget what they were 
the next minute. I honestly believe I’d like a doll that 
was very, very beautiful. I always thought there must 
be a perfectly lovely doll in the world, not like any I 
ever saw. But I couldn’t play with her if I had her, 
because when you get old for dolls they seem to stand 
off and not play with you. I’m just crazy about them, 
but I don’t know what to do with them the way I did. 
Janie could help me, but I couldn’t do it alone. So I 
don’t need even the doll. It is just like ‘ Hush, my 
dear, lie still and slumber ’ ; don’t you know ? ‘ All 
my wants are well supplied.’ And they certainly are.” 

“ Couldn’t Alys and I play dolls with you ? ” asked 
Natalie. 

Beth shook her head decidedly. “ I don’t believe 
you could have played dolls with me if you were 
Janie’s age ; Janie’s not as old as I am,” she said. She 
looked at Natalie and Alys’s charming costumes, at 
their dawning young womanhood with penetrating eyes. 
“You are too far-off,” she added. “Alys is farther 
off than Natalie, though she is younger. You have too 
much. When you get bigger you have to want some- 
thing in order to love dolls. I can’t play with them, 
but I love to cuddle them.” 


186 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


“ So do I, Beth,” said Natalie. 

Mrs. Cortlandt looked at Beth, wondering for the 
unnumbered time at the thoughtfulness that this simple 
little girl sometimes displayed. When it came to heart 
knowledge, Beth always seemed to understand pro- 
found things that she could not possibly know. 

“Yes, I guess you would like to cuddle them, 
Natalie,” said Beth, regarding her oldest cousin atten- 
tively. “ Your eyes look cuddly.” 

Aunt Alida telephoned the stable after they reached 
home, to save time, and sent the girls thither in the 
car after they had put on their riding habits. Dirk 
proved to be at home and he joined the riding party. 

Tim had been bidden to ride beside Beth who, 
though she had by this time ridden several times in the 
park, was still lacking in self-confidence. Another 
groom accompanied Natalie and Alys, who were good 
riders, for such young ones, and who needed no more 
than an attendant should anything go wrong. 

“ I can’t help being glad, Tim, that Trump is no 
taller,” said Beth, as she and faithful Tim turned in at 
the park entrance in the rear of the small cavalcade. 
“ It would not be far to fall off, if I had to fall.” 

“ No, Miss Beth, and I’m suspectin’ that had some- 
thing to do with Mr. Cortlandt’s pickin’ the pony for 
you. That and his gentleness,” said Tim. He had be- 
come utterly devoted to Beth since he had esquired 
her. “ She was that quaint and old-fashioned and 
sweet,” he told Mrs. Tim at home. 

“ I thought it was, Tim. I’d be afraid on a real 


KEIS KEINGLE’S JINGLES 


187 


horse, but Trump is like a footstool. He trots beauti- 
fully, though, doesn’t he ? And he is the sweetest 
thing ! I’m afraid to begin to love him, because it will 
be spring so soon and I’ll have to go home and leave 
him. But I don’t have to begin to love him, because I 

just worshiped him the moment I saw What is 

that, Tim ? ” cried Beth sharply, interrupting herself. 

“ Sure it’s some kind of a to-do with a child,” replied 
Tim. 

Tim on his horse and Beth on Trump hastened 
forward ; the rest of the partj^" was already out of sight 
around a curve of the bridle path. A small crowd had 
collected at a point a short distance ahead of Beth and 
her escort ; they saw the gray form of a tall park police- 
man dominating it. 

“ I’ll have to run you in,” Beth heard the policeman 
say as she came up. 

“ Oh, what is it ? ” cried Beth, and a boy beside her 
explained that the forlorn little girl, whom the police- 
man held by the arm in a state of collapse, had been ac- 
cused of snatching a lady’s purse and throwing it into 
the shrubbery on the mall beyond the bridle path, in- 
tending to find it later. But that the lady had felt the 
child’s touch and had pursued her here, whither the 
small footpad had run to escape her. 

“ Oh, I’m sure she didn’t ! ” cried Beth, slipping 
from Trump’s back to Tim’s horror and pushing her 
way over to the child. “You didn’t steal the purse, 
did you ? ” she cried. 

The child looked up into the anxious face, scarcely 


188 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


older than her own, but far plumper, rosier and happier. 
She saw the pity in the sweet blue eyes and her own 
dark ones filled with tears. 

“ No, miss ; oh, no, miss ! ” cried the little creature. 
Her thin body shook with sobs and she broke into pas- 
sionate weeping, interrupted by Italian words. 

“ Why, there’s a purse ! ” cried Beth. Her eyes had 
spied a mesh purse dangling on the end of a long silver 
bar, held by a silver chain around the neck of the 
child’s accuser. The bar sustained an immense pillow 
muff. The muff nearly hid the purse, but its gleams 
chanced to fall under Beth’s eyes as she looked at the 
excited woman, who was eagerly clamoring for the ar- 
rest of the small robber and her immediate deportation 
to the reformatory. “Is that the purse you lost?” 
cried Beth. 

The woman looked down, lifted the purse as if she 
suspected it of being capable of further tricks, and de- 
tached it gingerly from the muff bar. 

“ It was twitched — I suppose the muff bar caught 

it ” muttered the woman, and stopped, ashamed of 

her accusation and annoyed by the angry murmurs of 
the knot of people which had collected. 

The poor frightened child, who had been in danger 
of arrest, sank in a pitiful heap of sobbing weakness on 
the ground, utterly unable to stand when the relief 
from her danger brought its reaction. 

“ I’ll walk, Tim, and let her ride Trump ; it isn’t far,” 
said Beth. “ Get on my pony, dear ; he’s very low and 
very gentle ; all you’ll have to do is to sit on him. I 


KEIS KRINGLE’S JINGLES 


189 


can’t ride, but I never have a bit of trouble staying on,” 
added Beth to the prostrate little victim. 

“ No, Miss Beth dear,” said Tim, inexpressibly touched 
and pleased. “ I wouldn’t dare let you walk home, in 
your habit, too; they’d sure be blamin’ me. Here, 
boy ; go call a taxi and there’ll be a quarter in it for 
you,” added Tim to the boy w^ho had explained the 
situation to Beth. “ Be quick with you ! ” 

The boy ran off, open-mouthed with admiration for 
this little lady who had appeared in time to effect such 
a rescue. 

Natalie, Alys and Dirk rode back with their groom 
to find out what had happened to Beth. When they 
heard the story Alys was half inclined to be annoyed at 
the oddness of it, but Natalie beamed on unconven- 
tional little Beth, and leaned over to pat Trump as a 
means to squeeze Beth’s hand slyly. 

“ You are going to be a little Saint Elizabeth, doing 
something for the unlucky ones all the time ; I see 
that ! ” whispered Natalie. 

“ What a right all right you are, Beth Bristead ! ” 
cried Dirk, forgetting his audience and speaking 
aloud. 

“ She surely is ! ” cried a red-faced old gentleman 
standing by. And I’m glad to learn her lovable little 
name.” 

Beth was thankful when the messenger returned an- 
nouncing that the taxicab, which he had fetched, was 
waiting at the head of the next path leading out from 
the bridle path to the drive. 


190 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


“ May I go with Dirk to see her off, Tim ? ” asked 
Beth. 

“ Sure ; ITl wait ye here,” replied Tim, already with 
Trump’s reins in his left hand. 

Beth and Dirk led the trembling little Italian- Ameri- 
can to the cab, escorted by a considerable proportion of 
the crowd. As they put her in Dirk asked her name 
and address. 

“ Annunciata Carmaldo,” the child told them, and 
that her home was quite across the city, in Second 
Avenue. She seemed to find the cab a species of smell- 
ing salts, for she revived from her fainting condition 
and began to sit up erect, even to assume small airs of 
importance, the moment she took her place within it. 
She bridled behind the doors which shut her in, her 
dark eyes peering over them, like a small seal in a 
tank. 

“ Maybe we shall see you again some day,” said Beth, 
bidding her good-bye. And, to her great embarrass- 
ment, the child leaned out and kissed Beth’s hands, 
raising them to her brow with fervor of adoration, while 
tears ran down her thin, pretty face, telling Beth of 
the gratitude for which the small Italian lacked all Eng- 
lish words. 

“ IS'ow that,” said Beth emphatically to Dirk as the 
cab rolled away and she and her cousin started back to 
their mounts, “ that is what I call an adventure ! ” 

“ Were you really going to put that little Italiano on 
your pony and walk home, Beth ? ” asked Dirk, eyeing 
the little girl as if she were an entirely new specimen. 


KEIS KRINGLE’S JINGLES 


191 


“ Yes, of course ; why not ? ” said Beth. 

Dirk looked at her again, slapped his leg and laughed. 

“ Well, if I ever ! ” he cried, not explaining to Beth’s 
eager questioning what he meant. 

That night Beth sat in her aunt’s room watching her 
made ready for the opera. It was an unfailing delight 
to Beth to see her beautiful aunt robed in her evening 
splendors, to watch the wonderful costumes adjusted 
and the flashing jewels placed in her dusky hair and on 
her white throat, scintillating among the laces on her 
breast. 

Aunt Alida was to Beth the embodiment and illumi- 
nation of all her dreams, a sort of combination of a 
royal princess, a fairy queen and a household goddess 
and mother whom she might worship, but must love. 
It had become a habit with Beth, and, consequently, 
with her cousins since she had come among them, to go 
to Mrs. Cortlandt’s room when she was dressing for a 
great occasion to absorb her loveliness and do her hom- 
age. Aunt Alida found no flattery that she received 
later in the evening in the great world half as sweet as 
this admiration from her children. 

To-night Beth thought Aunt Alida had never been 
so beautiful — but she thought that each night ! Anna 
Mary fastened a tiara of diamonds on her lady’s hair 
and clasped a long chain of perfect blue-white stones 
around her throat. 

“ You look like Iris ! ” cried Beth, as she caught the 
rainbow colors that flashed at her from the jewels. 

“ What do you know of Iris, small niece ? ” asked 


192 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


Uncle Jim, entering in sequence to his knock on his 
wife’s door. 

“ I know she was the rainbow and so is Aunt Alida,” 
Beth answered. “You look just as nice, in all that 
white linen front, as Aunt Alida does. Uncle Jim, but 
men can only be fine and nice ; they can’t be wonder- 
ful.” 

“ Dear me, no ; I should never so much as attempt to 
be wonderful, Bethie,” laughed Uncle Jim. “ What’s 
this I hear about your wanting to give your pony to a 
beggar maid, while you walked ? Saint Martin divided 
his cloak with a beggar ; I don’t know which of the 
saints, if any, gave up his undivided horse to one.” 

“She wasn’t a beggar, Uncle Jim,” Beth set him 
right. “And it was only while she was faint and 
had to get home. Was it wrong ? Dirk roared laugh- 
ing at me, but he wouldn’t tell me why.” 

“It’s an unlikely thing to happen in New York,” 
said Uncle Jim. 

“ In New York ? Oh ! It’s— I suppose it would be 
something like my wearing the aprons here I used to 
wear at home ? ” Beth looked meditative. 

“ Do you like New York, Bethie ? ” asked her uncle, 
tipping up the thoughtful face. 

“ I just love it ! ” cried Beth fervently. “ I used to 
be sort of jealous of it, in history, you know, its being 
settled before Massachusetts. I had to remember it 
was settled by the Dutch, and that Massachusetts had 
the Pilgrim Fathers to get over that 1614 date, when 
Plymouth was 1620. But now I don’t mind at all; 


KEIS KEIEGLE’S JINGLES 


193 


I’d just as lief. It’s such a splendid place and it’s so 
good to me and I’m so happy here that I wouldn’t 
care if it had been Lief Ericsson settled it in the year 
1000 ! ” 

“ That’s fine and generous of you, Elizabeth, and I 
thank you in New York’s name ! But after all it was 
settled by your Cortlandt ancestors, so you needn’t 
mind,” said Uncle Jim. 

“ I don’t think I ever realized I had Cortlandt an- 
cestors then,” said Beth. She sprang up to hug him — 
carefully, because of his easily-crushed expanse of linen 
— for she thought her last speech made him look sorry. 


CHAPTEE XII 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 

“ XT’S always nice when you begin,” said Alys. 

X The three girl cousins were gathered in Xatalie’s 
room doing up Christmas gifts. Eolls of white tissue 
paper, of crepe paper figured in glowing poinsettia and 
holly; yards and yards of Christmas ribbons, white, 
with holly or poinsettia designs, or plain holly red ; 
tufts of jewelers’ cotton clinging to everything it 
should not touch and leaving fuzzy white down behind 
it when it was removed ; Christmas seals of varied de- 
signs and Ked Cross seals ; piles of cards ; higher piles 
of holly boxes of all sorts and sizes ; labels asking aim- 
lessly that something should not be “ opened until 
Christmas,” all these things covered the room “ except 
the walls and ceiling,” as Beth had said. She had 
added that it “ was nice when we began,” showing 
that she was getting a little tired of the work, and 
Alys had retorted that it is “ always nice when you 
begin.” 

Beth had only a few packages to do up ; they lay 
together, completed, and now she was helping her 
cousins with what looked like their endless task. 

“ It’s pretty hard to keep up the way you begin in 
194 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


195 


anything,” said Natalie thoughtfully disentangling the 
end of the last opened piece of poinsettia ribbon from 
a roll of plain red. “ It’s fun getting things around 
and starting in, but you — one — get — gets so discouraged 
when things are all around and mixed up ! ” 

“ I wouldn’t try to use two pronouns in one sentence, 
Nat ; that is what I call mixed up,” laughed Alys. 
“ Better stick to ‘ you,’ if you start with it, even if it 
isn’t so elegant. Well, all I know is my fingers are 
turning into chop-sticks ; they’re getting all stiff and 
queer tying these little fiddling bows of narrow ribbon ! 
Wouldn’t it be easy if we could order Christmas pres- 
ents sent right to the people from the stores ? ” 

“ With price tags on and the shopping slip done up 
with them, instead of a Christmas card ? ” suggested 
Natalie. “ No, I don’t mind getting tired doing this, 
because it adds at least as much again to the presents 
to have them come done up so fascinatingly. I wouldn’t 
care for mine if they came in brown paper, so I’m will- 
ing to work to make Christmas nice. But I’m ready 
to own up that it’s the hardest job I ever have in the 
whole year.” 

“ Mama won’t let us hand it over to any one else to 
do,” Alys explained to Beth. “ She says it isn’t the 
riffht idea at all to have the maids do it. I suppose it 
isn’t.” 

“ No ; I can see that,” said Beth. “ It wouldn’t be 
so hard if we hadn’t got everything out at once. It’s 
so — crazy ! ” 

‘‘ Have to,” said Alys. Else you’ll find you used 


196 


BETH^S WOl^DEE- WINTER 


your boxes wrong, or used up aU one kind of paper that 
you simply had to have for something else.” 

« I’ve got the worst job of all ! ” said Dirk, coming 
into the room, followed by his mother. Dirk wrote so 
plain and good a hand that his share of the Christmas 
preparations was to address the packages. In return 
for which the girls did up his gifts for him. It is 
doubtful if Dirk appreciated this ; it would not have 
troubled him if he had handed each of his boy friends 
a present, quite unadorned, with the brief remark : 
“ Here ; that’s for you ! ” 

“ Hot anything like through, are you, girls ? ” asked 
Mrs. Cortlandt. “ Don’t get too tired. If you can’t 
finish, Hatalie may sleep in one of the guest rooms, or 
with Alys, and you may leave everything as it is when 
you stop for the day, and resume in the morning at the 
point you leave off.” 

“ I wish Hatalie would sleep with me ! ” cried Beth. 
“ My presents are done up. Aunt Alida. That pile, there.” 

Aunt Alida had quick vision for shadows on young 
faces, quick ears for tones in young voices. She thought 
that she detected wistfulness in Beth’s face and voice 
then, and rightly interpreted it as a half wish on Beth’s 
part that she had as many friends to make merry on 
Christmas as her cousins had. And Aunt Alida never 
saw anything that she might improve without at once 
trying to improve it. She had an inspiration now. 

“ I wonder how it would do for Bethie to have a 
tree and invite the guests to it?” Mrs. Cortlandt 
suggested. 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


197 


“ Beth ! Why, she doesn’t know ” began Alys 

and stopped herself. 

“ No, I don’t know any one but the girls’ friends, the 
Tanagers and Bluebirds, and those girls,” said Beth, 
finishing Alys’s sentence for her. 

“ I don’t mean that sort of a tree, Beth ! And you 
do know one girl whom we don’t know at all — An- 
nunciata Carmaldo, wasn’t she ? And Liebchen is 
rather especially your acquaintance,” said Aunt Alida, 
smiling down on Beth. “ I mean a tree for girls who 
may not have a Merry Christmas without it. Suppose 
we have fine big tree set up in — perhaps the billiard 
room ? And trim it and light it as well as we know how, 
and let it be Beth’s tree, and let Beth issue the invi- 
tations! She can get introductions to poor people 
through — let me see ! I think Anna Mary would help 
us splendidly ; she is exceedingly good and charitable 
under her glum exterior, and is constantly working for 
the poor herself. We might let this tree be our only 
tree this year and for ourselves do something else — a 
hunt for presents, or something of that sort. What do 
you all say to giving Beth a Christmas party, a tree for 
children who need happiness ? ” 

“ Fine, beautiful mother ! ” approved Natalie with a 
warm look in the dark eyes which smiled at Mrs. Cort- 
landt. 

“ Say, wouldn’t that be great ! Fun alive ! ” cried 
Dirk. 

“ I think it might be very nice indeed,” said Alys 
slowly. 


198 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTER 


Beth had risen, dropping all the Christmas materials 
which filled her lap. 

“Aunt Alida,” she said earnestly, her eyes moist, 
shining through the rapturous tears, “ all my life long 
I have thought how perfectly beautiful it would be if I 
could do something like that ! You read about it in 
books, you know, how rich girls have trees, or some- 
thing, for poor children. I think I’d be so happy I 
couldn’t bear it to have a tree like that ! Do you think 
they could sing h3nnns around the tree? I do love 
hymns, ’specially Christmas ones. It wouldn’t be my 
tree ; it would be allj every bit yours, but if you called 
it a little bit mine I’d be so glad ! It would be so 
much like Bethlehem, you see.” 

“ Gee ! ” exclaimed Dirk too surprised to help it. 
“ Why?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. All the poor shepherds, and 
bringing poor children in, and — and ‘ suffer little chil- 
dren,’ you know,” stammered Beth, too embarrassed to 
put her thought into coherent words. 

Mrs. Cortlandt drew Beth to her and kissed her with 
great tenderness. 

“ Little Elizabeth, are you going to be one of those 
who love, like your namesake, the ‘ sweet Saint,’ Eliza- 
beth of Hungary ? Dear heart, we will have the tree 
and if you can give my children some of your sense of 
the approach to Bethlehem it will be more than a 
merely Merry Christmas, my precious little niece,” she 
said softly. 

That afternoon the great tree was ordered. It was 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


199 


a beauty, so big that the dealer who sold it had been 
fearful that it might not find a purchaser. 

Suddenly Beth found herself swept into the vortex 
of rapid, late Christmas preparations on a mammoth 
scale. Aunt AHda insisted that all possible decisions 
should be left to Beth. 

Beth, at her aunt’s suggestion, asked Anna Mary to 
help her to select the guests. 

“ Do I know any poor children, is it. Miss Beth ? ” 
cried Anna Mary. ‘‘ Do I not ? Sure they do be no 
lack of them in a big city ! I have a niece that’s a 
Sister of Charity and there’ll be no trouble whatever 
in her puttin’ us on the thrack of as many destitute 
little ones as we want. I myself know five families 
this minynte which has thirty-five children between 
’em, all between three and fourteen years of age. And 
that’s a good start for us.” 

“ Thirty-five ! Five into thirty-five — that’s seven 
apiece, Anna Mary ! Isn’t that a lot ? ” cried Beth. 

“ They’re not divided up just evenly. Miss Beth ; one 
family has nine and one has but four. But sure it is 
a lot, and more than a lot, for there isn’t enough to 
take care of the quarter of ’em in a way even plain 
folks would call takin’ care of ’em,” said Anna Mary 
with feeling. 

“ Aunt Alida said about fifty would be right, but she 
said not to worry if there were one or two children 
over. She doesn’t want to leave out any we find, who 
really ought to come, just to keep to a certain number,” 
Beth explained. 


200 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“I’m to go with you and the young ladies to the 
photographer’s. Miss Natalie arranged it with her 
mother that we might have a while too long, so we 
could go to the photographer’s unsuspected by Mrs. 
Cortlandt. Then you and I are goin’ huntin’ for guests, 
Miss Beth. Mrs. Cortlandt said I might take you to 
the children’s homes, if I was sure there’d be no diseases 
for you to catch,” said Anna Mary. 

“ I had chicken pox — twice, Anna Mary, and whoop- 
ing-cough and measles when I was small, and last year 
I was a sight with mumps, so there can’t be much for 
me to take. I’ll be ready in half an hour — ^you said , 
half an hour, Anna Mary ? ” asked Beth. 

“Half an hour. Miss Beth, if you please. ' And Miss 
Natalie said she had picked out what you were to be 
photographed in ; Frieda laid out some frocks for her to 
choose between, and I have the one in the case our 
young ladies are takin’: It’s a fine white one. Miss 
Beth, quite/ simple, and most suited to you. Miss Nat- • 
alie has ^^onderful taste 'for so young a girl,” added 
Anna Mary, seeing the questionfin Beth’s eyes. . 

Beth found the photographer’s another item in her 
list of “ things that were different.” At home one 
climbed two steep flights of stairs to get to the photog- 
rapher’s studio and after this breath-taking feat, one 
found it a small room, stuffy with mixed odors of 
chemicals, littered with photographs on sundry tables 
standing about and with dismaying groups and single 
enlargements, framed in dark mouldings, standing 
against the walls. 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


201 


Here one arose in an elevator to enter a still and taste- 
ful reception room, white with the light of the top floor 
of a large building, and was shown into a dressing 
room, quietly sumptuous, where a maid was in at- 
tendance, in case the visitor had not brought her own 
maid to make her ready for the great business of a 
portrait. 

Anna Mary being in attendance upon the three young 
girls, the “ stationary maid,” as Natalie called her, was 
not required. Anna Mary laid out the three white 
frocks in which the girls were to be photographed and 
then dressed them. She shook out Natalie’s abundant 
hair, her glorious hair, so dark, yet full of warmth, full 
also of bends and turns and wilfulness. She brought 
Alys’s pale hair forward where it would show to the 
best advantage, and brushed Beth’s fine masses of 
shining gold into a mist that was hard to curb. Then 
they were ready and went out to take their places be- 
fore the camera. Here two surprises awaited Beth. 
One was Dirk who, having steadfastly refused to be 
one of the party, had altered his mind at the last mo- 
ment and now appeared in his finest attire, grinning 
sheepishly. 

The other surprise was the photographer who was a 
woman ! It had never occurred to Beth that a woman 
could do more than take Brownie snap-shots, but this 
woman proved entirely capable. She posed the group 
of four skilfully, with the grace and dignity of a por- 
trait by Keynolds. Then she photographed the three^ 
Cortlandts together, Beth insisting on A group without 


202 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


her. Then each one separately, till at least a dozen 
negatives had been made and the artist — for the name 
rightfully belonged to this photographer — expressed 
herself satisfied with her results. 

“Just one more — you with me, little Cozbeth ! ” 
cried J^atalie. “ I want it as a Christmas present to 
myself.” 

Beth willingly agreed, and for a moment the dark 
hair and the fair hair blended as the two girls were 
posed before the camera, Beth’s face upturned to IS'ata- 
lie, l^atalie’s handsome head bent downward to the 
younger girl whom she was beginning to love with a 
fervor that surprised herself. 

“ IS'ow we part, Bethlein,” said E'atalie, this picture 
taken. “ Alys and I are going to lunch with Hedda 
Gabbler.” 

“With — what is her name?” cried Beth, emerging 
from the skirt Anna Mary threw over her head. 

Natalie laughed. “ That’s the name of a play ; we 
call Doris Belmar that because she’s such a talker,” she 
explained. “ You’re going with Anna Mary, slumming. 
Don’t get stolen, or murdered or anything ! Good-bye, 
Beth.” 

“ Good-bye,” echoed Beth, and her cousins left her to 
follow them a few moments later, Dirk having taken 
himself off with evident relief the instant the last pic- 
ture of himself had been secured. 

“ It’s a taxicab we have to use to-day. Miss Beth ; 
your uncle has the small car and your aunt is usin’ the 
horses, after the young ladies are left at Mrs. Belmar’s.” 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


203 


So saying Anna Mary handed Beth into a cab that they 
found waiting at the door, and then stepped in herself. 
She had sent the case containing the frocks home by a 
messenger. 

“ I’d just as lief have a taxicab, Anna Mary. I think 
I like them better,” said Beth as theirs started. “ I play 
I am in a boat and that the crowds are what the books 
call them, ‘ a sea of faces,’ and we go plunging right 
through the waves. I’m always a dolphin or a mer- 
maid.” 

“Well, Miss Beth, it’s not a play that I’d care for, 
both of them bein’ fishy and I’m not partial to fish, nor 
to the sea, for I was that sick when I came to America 
that I never went back, though my youngest brother 
do be still livin’ near by the city of Cork and I’ve 
plenty cousins at home in Ireland,” said Anna Mary, 
with her serious air of superiority. “ This is gettin’ 
over to the poor parts. Miss Beth, which so far you’ve 
not seen,” she added. 

The cab was going eastward and then northward. 
“ First we shall find that little Italian girl you saw in 
the park,” explained Anna Mary. 

Beth murmured an assent, but she was too much oc- 
cupied with the new scenes before her to do more. 
Eapidly the New York she knew was changing into 
something as different from itself as her old home was 
different from it. Shabbiness was creeping over it like 
a sort of cloudy twilight. The buildings looked bat- 
tered ; so did the people passing them, and swarms of 
children, who were too small to go to school and too 


204 


BETH’S WONBEE- WINTER 


small to play on the sidewalk, were nevertheless play« 
ing there in every block. 

“It’s here,” announced Anna Mary when the cab 
stopped. She helped Beth out, gathered up her skirts 
and gingerly led the way into a tenement house. 

“ Try not to touch the railin’, Miss Beth,” said Anna 
Mary, mounting the stairs. 

Anna Mary knocked at a door which proved to be 
the right one. It was opened by a woman dressed in 
bright colors, gold hoops in her ears ; a black-eyed baby, 
held against her shoulder, frowned timidly at the sight 
of strangers. 

The woman seemed to speak little English, but to 
understand perfectly what Anna Mary said when she 
explained slowly, in carefully chosen words, that Beth 
was the little girl who had been the means of saving 
Annunciata from arrest as a thief and that Annunciata 
was to come on Christmas eve to a tree at Beth’s home. 
Anna Mary laid down a card that bore Mr. Cortlandt’s 
name and address, explaining that this was to tell 
Annunciata where to go. 

“ Y e-es, a-tanka you. I not speeka, Annunciata speeka. 
I un’erstan’, no speeka, me. Annunciata glada go see. 
Lika lil’ lady moocha, say great times tanka she. An- 
nunciata coma sure — sure ! ” said the woman with a 
smile that revealed two rows of gleaming white teeth. 

Beth smiled her best to supply deficiencies in the 
conversation, but the room looked dreary to her, 
though it was not half as bad as those she was to see 
later. Some attempt at decking it had been made. A 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


205 


bright lithograph of Kaphael’s Madonna della Sedia 
hung on one side of the room, on the other another 
high colored lithograph of the crucifixion. Paper 
flowers and a decorated candle stood on a shelf beside 
the first picture ; there was something besides mere 
eating and drinking and their scarcity here, but poverty 
was written plain on the room. Beth felt a shocked 
pity, as if New York, which had been so abundantly 
kind to her, Avas not hospitable to these emigrants. 

She followed Anna Mary back to the cab and peered 
thoughtfully out over its doors as they went on, through 
various streets. They stopped when Anna Mary, con- 
sulting a list given her by her niece, the Sister of 
Charity, indicated that they should stop, and, getting 
out, climbed dark stairways, to wind through darker 
passages, filled with indescribable odors that had the 
effect of having been there for ages, and entered homes 
that consisted of two or three stuffy, forlorn little 
rooms, sometimes of but one room. The pleasure that 
Beth had imagined they should confer was rarely 
shoAvn. The children might be glad later on, but the 
mothers to Avhom they announced the Christmas tree 
took it stolidly, sometimes almost suspiciously. It did 
not seem to make them glad. 

After a while this pilgrimage led Beth, with Anna 
Mary, to the five families of which Anna Mary had 
told Beth, the five with thirty-five children among 
them. None of the others had been as poor. They 
lived on one floor. There Avas little light in their 
rooms, but this may have been a good thing, for there 


206 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


was too much revealed by what light there was, too 
much and too little. There was no adornment here, 
only the least furniture, and yet hardly any space. 
But the worst was that the mothers looked so pitifully 
thin and worn, so dull-eyed and gray of skin. Beth 
noticed with surprise that Anna Mary’s forbidding 
manner fell from her like a shell which her heart had 
pierced, that she was soft of voice, tender of touch, 
mild-eyed and very, very gentle in these barren places ; 
altogether a new and lovely Anna Mary. 

“ It’s goodness ! ” thought Beth correctly. “ It’s 
goodness and kindness and it must be there all the 
time ! She’s a dear and she must come here often, for 
they know her so well ! So she’s not just Anna Mary, 
who is a maid that looks as if she wore taffeta inside 
and out ; she’s a good, good woman ! ” 

And this was an important discovery, not merely 
because it set Anna Mary in her true light, but because 
it showed Beth that goodness was the one real thing 
that counted. 

At last the visits were all made and Anna Mary put 
Beth into the taxicab for the return home. It was a 
quiet Beth that looked out over the infolded cab doors 
with her big, gray-blue eyes, seeing the melancholy 
streets through which they were passing as part of the 
poverty which she had, for the first time, realized to be 
a fact. 

Anna Mary watched her, unseen, and finally aroused 
her from her thoughts. 

“Is it plannin’ the tree you are. Miss Beth, that 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


207 


you’re so quiet?” she asked, though she knew Beth 
was not thinking of the tree. 

Beth turned to her with a long, indrawn breath. 
“No, Anna Mary. It doesn’t seem as though the*‘c 
could be trees,” she said. “ Is it like this all the time ? 
And in all those houses we didn’t go into ? ” 

“ Maybe it was too hard on you seein’ it. Miss Beth,” 
said Anna Mary sympathetically. 

“ But New York isn’t all splendid and happy, then,” 
said Beth. “ I thought it was a fairy-land.” 

“ There do be bad fairies. Miss Beth. All big cities 
have the two sides to ’em, the grand side where people 
spend money like water, and the awful side where even 
water is scarce. Then there’s a fine lot between; 
people workin’ hard, but gettin’ good times out of it 
and nice, comfortable little homes. I think your Aunt 
Alida wanted to learn what you’d make out of seein’ 
these miseries,” said Anna Mary. 

“ Can we help it ? ” asked Beth. “ I never can, be- 
cause I shall not be rich myself, but can any one ? ” 

“ It’s a great puzzle. Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary. 
“ No end of things there are makin’ and keepin’ these 
people poor. The wisest and best heads in the world 
are always puzzhn’ over helpin’ it, and by this and by 
that they’re always thinkin’ they’ve found the cure, but 
it’s not so easy. Sure, you can help it. Miss Beth. 
Helpin’s not curin’, but if every one helped, then the 
cure’d be worked. And as to your bein’ poor, do you 
imagine your aunt and uncle, havin’ found you and 
found you what you are, lovin’ you as they do, won’t 


208 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


take care you have plenty to help with, if you’re 
minded to use it that way ? ” 

“ Will they ? ” cried Beth, plainly not thinking of 
this in connection with her own life. “ How shall I 
help?” 

“ First off it needs wantin’ to. Miss Beth, real wantin’, 
so other things don’t crowd it out. And then it takes 
lovin’, lovin’ in the right way, so you don’t mind when 
the poor unfortunate people disappoint you and are un- 
grateful, or turn out ill. Then the way can’t be missed. 
It’s much the kind of lovin’ that was shown all His life 
long by our dear Lord, whose birthday you’re goin’ to 
make glad for the children you’ve been askin’. And 
the only way I know to help the people is His way ; 
just go about teachin’ and feedin’ and maybe dyin’ for 
’em, if needs be, prayin’ they be forgiven for they know 
not what they do.” Anna Mary spoke with profound 
emotion in her usually dull voice. Her face warmed 
and quivered with feeling and Beth sat looking up at 
her, drinking in her words, her own sweet little face 
responsive to the chords Anna Mary touched, her eyes 
dimming with tears, yet kindling with her inward re- 
solve to help in this way, if the opportunity came to 
her. 

Beth put her hand over the back of Anna Mary’s 
when she stopped speaking. 

‘‘ I’m glad I came with you to-day, Anna Mary. I 
think you have shown me better than even Aunt Alida 
could ; you seem to know closer, if that’s the right way 
to say it. And I’m glad you are the one that came for 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


209 


me, to fetch me from Aunt Rebecca’s here. Maybe it 
means that some day I can help and you are going to 
show me how and were sent to fetch me for that reason, 
only no one knew it then,” she said in her earnest way. 

“ Bless the dear child I ” said Anna Mary fervently. 
“ Sure, Miss Beth, I’ve loved you from the first minyute 
I set my two eyes on you ! Now don’t be thinkin’ sober 
thoughts so near Christmas and you but a slip of a girl ! 
All you must think of now, dear little Miss Beth, is that 
you’re going to make fifty-three of these poor children 
perfectly happy at the tree ; we’ve asked fifty-three, 
Miss Beth ! ” 

“ Isn’t it splendid ! ” cried Beth, brightening. “ But 
is it right to forget, Anna Mary ? ” 

“ It wouldn’t be, if broodin’ over poverty did any 
good. Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary sensibly. “But 
worryin’ never did, nor ever will help anything ; more 
by token it works the other way, makin’ the worrier no 
good when the time does come to help. It’s plain now 
you’re meant to be a happy little girl, enjoyin’ what’s 
sent you with a grateful heart. It’s a mystery. Miss 
Beth, that one has and the other hasn’t, but so ’tis ! 
The way I look at it is that God is a weaver, weavin’ 
our lives and all the world, and not one of us sees the 
pattern He’s set. But if we’re a gold thread in it, then 
we must let Him use us like pure shinin’ gold in the 
pattern. And if we’re just a bit of gray wool, or maybe 
cotton, we must let Him weave us in just as satisfied. 
Sure, when it’s all made and done with, what difference 
will it be whether we’re less or more ? ” 


210 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTEE 


‘‘ Oh, Anna Mary, what a lovely, lovely little ser- 
mon ! ” cried Beth. 

“ I didn’t get the weavin’ idea out of my own head. 
Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary honestly. “ But it’s been 
a great comfort to me since first I saw it in a bit of 
po’try.” 

Beth ran up the steps of her uncle’s house, her serious- 
ness dispelled by the last part of her drive. The gay 
splendor of the avenue late in the afternoon, the line of 
prancing horses and beautiful private motor cars, com- 
ing back from the park, the promenaders, the children 
so perfectly dressed, so rosy, so welhtended, swinging 
and pulling along on their uniformed attendants’ hands, 
who could believe that this city was the other side of 
the one Beth had just left and who, at eleven years old, 
could, or should, resist its brightness ? 

“ Say, Beth, the tree’s come ! ” cried Dirk from some- 
where up-stairs the moment Beth was admitted. He 
slid down the banisters and came up like an acrobat, 
with a bow before her. “ They’ve set the tree up in 
the music room. Mama decided we’d need the organ 
and piano and things ; she’s had canvas laid to save the 
floor. That oak floor’s her joy. But maybe it isn’t 
a tree! Well, I guess! Come on and see it before 
you go up-stairs. How many poor kids did you 
catch ? ” 

“ Fifty-three. We couldn’t possibly leave out any, 
and Aunt Alida said not to mind if there were a few 
over fifty,” said Beth, following Dirk. “ Dirk, it’s 
exactly like the parable, going out into the highways 


THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS 


211 


and byways, you know, to make them come in to the 
feast.” 

“ Well, wouldn’t you think they’d fall all over them- 
selves to come ? Ought not to take any making, ought 
it ? How’s that ? Isn’t that a peach of a tree ? ” added 
Dirk, throwing open the music room door with a 
flourish. 

“ I never, never saw such a tree — except growing,” 
cried Beth in a rapture, but tempering her statement to 
the exact truth. “ Dirk, let’s play we are Druids, going 
to be converted on Christmas, but Druids now. And 
let’s pay it homage. Big evergreen trees always make 
me want to worship them ! ” 

“ How would you do it, play Druid ? ” asked Dirk, 
interested, but at sea. 

“ I don’t know ; let’s sing ‘ O Tannenbaum ’ ! ” sug- 
gested Beth. So taking hands they sang the beautiful 
German song to the pine tree, though Dirk could not 
carry a tune well, and Beth’s German went no farther 
than the first stanza, which she had once learned in 
school. 


CHAPTER Xin 


“ HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME ” 

HRISTMAS eve was a busy one. Other years the 



young Cortlandts’ tree had been trimmed for 
them, but this year the fact that the tree was intended 
to give poor children pleasure seemed to alter every one’s 
attitude toward it. 

Beth took it for granted that she and her cousins were 
to trim the tree themselves, and it so fell out. Beth was 
given authority over it, as it was to be her party, and, 
after she got over being afraid to decide any question 
put to her lest she should decide wrong and spoil the tree, 
she enjoyed her dignity just as much as she enjoyed the 
glittering ornaments of many sizes, colors and clever 
designs vrhich had been ordered in dozens for her tree. 

She asked to have Tim from the stable “ to do the lad- 
der part,” as she put it. Tim was sent for and came 
willingly, glad to have a chance to do something for Beth 
that was not in his regular line of employment, and 
which therefore seemed particularly a personal service 
to her. 

Tim was as full of quips and quiddities as his race 
usually is and, while the trimming of the tree pro- 
gressed, got his young employers into gales of laughter 
with his nonsense, his wit and pranks. At last, when 
he danced a breakdown on the top rung of the ladder 


212 


“HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME 


213 


— or pretended to — whistling an Irish air, with his face 
a network of laughing wrinkles, the children laughed 
till they begged Tim to stop, in mercy to their aching 
sides and weakened knees. 

“ I never thought it could be so much fun, just get- 
ting a tree trimmed for a Christmas tree,” sighed Beth. 
“ I don’t wonder holly and jolly rhyme ! ” 

“ So does melancholy,” suggested Natalie. 

“ Melancholy doesn’t rhyme with holly all the way 
through ; it doesn’t rhyme in meaning, but jolly does. 
Melancholy rhymes only at the very end — when it 
stops being melancholy ! ” cried Beth, with an inspira- 
tion, much pleased with her own cleverness in making 
this discovery. 

“ Bright Beth ! ” applauded Alys. Beth felt as 
though she hardly knew Alys to-day, she was so gay 
and merry, with all her stiff little ways gone, frolick- 
ing like the big-little girl she really was. 

“ Oh, say, Tim, you mustn’t smoke up there among 
those branches, honest ! ” cried Dirk peering at Tim on 
his lofty perch near the ceiling of the high-vaulted 
music room. 

“ I’m not smokin’. Master Dirk,” said Tim, stooping 
to peer back again, his short pipe in his mouth. 

“You’ve got your pipe in your mouth,” persisted 
Dirk. 

“ Faith an’ I’ve got me foot in me shoe, but by the 
same token I’m not walkin’ ! ” said Tim with his 
chuckle. “ It’s just suckin’ it I am. Master Dirk, for 
the comfort of its society! Do you want the string 


214 


BETH'S WONDEE- WINTER 


of bells, sort of like a wreat', just below the highest 
angel at the top, Miss Beth, or do you want them 
ghtterin' things that look like white of eggs an’ mer- 
cury, mixed, to make dyin' by mercury poison easy ? " 

‘‘ Oh, Tim, you are so funny ! " sighed Beth, for 
Tim’s remark about his shoe had sent them all off 
again in shrieks of laughter. “I think the bells, 
please.” 

So Tim festooned the strings of party-colored bells 
just below the top of the tree, singing the while in a 
high falsetto : 


’Tis the bells of Shandon, 

That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 
Of the river Lee.” 

“ Now the tree is done ! ” cried Alys, clapping her 
hands. “ And there never could be a more splendid 
one ! I’m going to see if mama is in and call her to 
look at it. Then we must get dressed. What time is 
your party coming, Beth ? Six ? ” 

“No, five. Don’t you remember Aunt Alida said 
we would have the children come early and dine at 
half-past eight?” replied Beth. “You may as well 
come down, Tim ; there won’t be anything more to do 
with the ladder.” 

Alys had hurried away and returned with her 
mother, sleepy and pretty, in a Japanese embroidered 
robe in which she had been taking a nap. 

“Nobody around, is there?” cried Mrs. Cortland t, 


‘'HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME” 


215 


peeping into the room. “ Except Tim, and he’ll never 
tell that I came down-stairs in a wrapper ! Alys 
wouldn’t let me delay. Children dear — and Tim and 
everybody that helped ” — she glanced at one or two of 
the maids who had been working on the tree — “I 
never, never saw a tree that was more grand and 
glorious ! It’s not only Christmasy and shining, but 
it’s actually beautiful! And truth compels me to say 
that not all Christmas trees are that ! And doesn’t it 
look big, now that it’s trimmed ? What fun it is ! 
Beth, if your little forlornities aren’t overwhelmed 
with delight they won’t be mortal children! You 
must go to get dressed ; do you know that it is nearly 
four o’clock? Dressing is going to take you longer 
and be different from your expectations ! No, indeed ; 
you needn’t ask a question for I won’t answer one ! 
I’ve a Christmas mystery of my own and I’m going to 
defend my rights ! Tim, did any one tell you that we 
expect you to bring your wife and children here to- 
night ? ” 

“No, ma’am. But we’re not expectin’ it, ma’am,” 
said Tim. Beth saw that Tim was ready to worship 
this lovely young Aunt Alida, \vhose girlish happiness 
was not feigned ; it bubbled up and overflowed out 
of a heart that wealth, the world and its pleasures, 
flattery and the power wealth gives had not tainted. 
Aunt Alida was, before all the things that she had to 
be to the outside world, a loving, home-loving woman ; 
her merry way of enjoying little things, as well as big 
ones, sprang from simple goodness. 


216 


BETH’S WONDEE-WmTEE 


“Well, perhaps you aren’t expecting to be bidden to 
our tree, but we certainly expect and intend you to 
come, Tim, with Mrs. Tim and all the Tiny Tims ! ” 
Mrs. Cortlandt laughed at her own application of Tiny 
Tim’s name. “I don’t know in the least why you 
weren’t asked, except that we decided on Miss Beth’s 
party so late and have been in a mad rush ever since ! 
Be off, Tim, and collect your family and come here 
with them at five. Hurry ; there’s not a moment to 
lose ! I’m so sorry no one told you you were coming ! 
Wait! Call up your wife and tell her to begin to 
dress the children ; it will save time. Mr. Cortlandt 
put a telephone into your house, didn’t he? So I 
thought. Call up your wife, then, and tell her I truly 
beg her pardon, but to forgive me and hurry the chil- 
dren here. Wait a moment ! L6on is coming ; I heard 
our horn and our engine. Tell Mr. Cortlandt I asked 
him to let Leon take you home and bring you all back 
in the car. Dirk, go with Tim and explain to your 
father how Tim’s invitation was forgotten and ask him 
if Leon can’t help us out. Be off, Tim ; run, Dirk ! ” 

Thus issuing her orders like a sort of breezy May 
morning, with the cherry blossoms of her rose-colored 
gown’s embroidery wrapped around her, Mrs. Cort- 
landt sent Tim and Dirk on their errand, and turned to 
her three girls. 

“ Scatter, lassies ! ” she cried. “ You’ve lots to do to 
get ready, and lots to be ready to do ! ” 

J^atalie snatched Alys’s and Beth’s hand and rushed 
them out of the room. Mrs. Cortlandt lingered long 


''HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME’» 


217 


enough to give directions to the maids for setting the 
room in order and making certain changes in its ar- 
rangement, then she, too, hurried after the girls, and 
called to them as they went to their rooms : 

“I’ve selected your toilets, chickens. Please put 
them on as fast and as well as you can and be down- 
stairs promptly at five.” 

Beth opened her door with confident expectation of 
finding some new delight awaiting her. Was there 
really no limit to Aunt Alida’s cleverness, prompted by 
her loving heart ? 

“ I hope I’ll be able some day to do something for 
her ! ” she said aloud. 

Frieda looked up. I’ve just had word from home. 
Miss Beth,” she said, her cheeks crimson, her eyes 
shining. “ Liebchen is coming here to-night ! She 
has walked without crutches. She is cured ! Oh, Miss 
Beth, Miss Beth ! ” 

“ Oh, Frieda, Frieda ! ” echoed Beth, hardly less 
moved. She threw her arms around Frieda, who 
kissed her hot cheek, neither remembering any differ- 
ence in position between them, both overwhelmed 
with a common joy. 

“ What a beau-ti-ful Christmas gift ! ” cried Beth. 
“ I was sure she wouldn’t get here because we didn’t 
hear a word. Aunt Alida told me I must hurry, 
Frieda, so I suppose we must put off being glad till 
to-morrow. It’s a comfort that we shall be just as 
glad next year ! ” 

“ Forever, Miss Beth ! ” said Frieda. “ If you hadn’t 


218 


BETH'S WONDER- WIKTEE 


spoken to your uncle Liebchen could not have been 
cured. I’d die for you and your good, good uncle and 
aunt ! ” 

“ So would I ! I mean for them ! ” And Beth 
laughed. “ Is that my frock? Won’t it frighten the 
children if I’m too fine ? ” 

Across her bed lay a white lace gown, filmy and ex- 
quisite over its white silk slip. 

“ They won’t see the frock. Miss Beth ; there’s a — a 
something to wear over it. The frock is for you to 
wear at dinner when they’re gone ; there’ll be no time 
to change,” explained Frieda. 

“ I don’t understand,” sighed Beth, contentedly re- 
signing herself to Frieda’s work on her hair. It was so 
delightful to be in the midst of mystery and to postpone 
its solution a little longer ! 

Frieda shook out the little girl’s golden hair and 
brushed and brushed it till it shone and fiew around her 
shoulders in masses of living gold, stirred by every 
breath. Then Frieda put white silk stockings and 
white slippers on Beth’s feet and slipped carefully over 
the fly-away hair, first the soft white china silk under- 
gown, then the gown of white lace, as filmy as a web. 

“ It makes me look like a dandelion field with a big 
cobweb over it, my hair all loose, and this webby lace,” 
said Beth, surveying her reflection with unspeakable 
delight. She recalled the plain gowns, shrouded in 
aprons which she had worn in her old home, with a 
wave of pity for Aunt Rebecca. 

“ Aunt Rebecca thinks it’s wicked to love to look 


''HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME 


219 


nice, but it isn’t ; it’s just being glad. Flowers and 
clouds and birds, everything is pretty ! I’m only glad 
the way they are ! Poor Aunt Kebecca ; I hope she 
isn’t lonely without me now ! She got a letter from 
me to-day and I tried to put things she’d like in my 
box for her ! She does love molasses peppermints and 
sugared almonds, and I sent lots of them, and some nice 
books and fine towels and handkerchiefs, and — lots of 
things ! I had to write her that it was my own money, 
or she’d be afraid Uncle Jim was buying things for her. 
Poor Aunt Kebecca ! It’s hard to make people have a 
good time when they’re out of the habit of it. What’s 
that, Frieda ? What in all the world is that ? ” she 
added hastily, for Frieda was bringing out a spangled 
garment and a long veil and pointed cap, also shining 
at every turn. 

“ You’re all to be Christmas fairies, in costume. Miss 
Beth,” announced Frieda in high glee. “ Your aunt 
planned it as a surprise to you and your cousins, and to 
make the party more wonderful to the poor children. 
Yours is white and gold, as you see ; Miss Natalie’s is 
red with bits of pink, the way some roses are shaded. 
And Miss Alys has the most splendid green, a shade 
that shows by electric light. Master Dirk is to wear 
blue velvet and white, half and half, with cap and bells, 
like the pictures you see of the men that made jokes 
for kings ” 

“Jesters,” murmured Beth in a stunned way. 

“And — but I mustn’t tell about your uncle and 
aunt ! ” Frieda stopped herself. “ Please bend quite 


220 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


low, Miss Beth. I must try not to muss your hair and 
gown when I put on the costume.” 

Beth bent her head, too overcome to say a word, and 
Frieda dropped into place the loose gown, all in one 
piece, that fell to her feet, completely covering her own 
gown. It was a golden silk, overshot with white ; it 
shimmered at every motion, and it was girdled and 
trimmed across the breast with rhinestone chains that 
were almost as brilliant as diamonds. A pointed cap 
of gold, like a big extinguisher, crowned Beth’s golden 
head next, and from it floated a veil of the thinnest 
gauze, all spangled over with tiny beads that took the 
light and gave it back like dewdrops in the sun. 

“ I have to blink at myself ! ” cried Beth, swaying 
and prancing before the glass. “ Did you ever, ever 
see anything so sweet ! And so shiny ? Frieda, how 
can Aunt Alida do such things, how can she ? I’m a 
fairy, myself, Beth ! I’ve been in fairy -land all this 
time and now I’m one ! I’ll never get over this, never ! 
I don’t know who I am, but I’m splendider than Beth 

was and prettier, and Oh, dear, oh, dear ! Talk 

about Merry Christmas ! ” 

There really seemed to be danger of Beth’s going off 
into a sort of swoon of jo}^ ; her shining marvels so 
overcame her. But at that instant Natalie and Alys 
came hurrying to Beth’s door, calling her excitedly, 
and Beth came to life with a shout that would have 
done credit to Dirk and a loud : ‘‘ Come in, come in ! ” 

Natalie and Alys opened the door and stood for an 
instant within it. 


HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME ’’ 


221 


“ My goodness me ! ” gasped Beth. My goodness 
gracious ! ” she added as Dirk joined them. 

Dirk was a jester, clad in a beautiful motley of white 
and blue velvet, fitting him like a sheath. His cap was 
hung with tiny bells, he carried the jester’s wand, his 
shoes were the slender pointed-toed affairs of the pic- 
tures, his round boyish face, red with excitement and 
fun, looked like a kewpie’s peering through the cap 
front that encircled his chin. But Alys and Natalie ! 
Alys in a brilliant metallic green, a straight, smooth 
mediaeval sort of gown, like Beth’s, with gold trimming, 
and a head-dress in the shape of a holly leaf, with gold 
imitation coins on the points ! And Natalie, surpassing 
them all in beauty, in a similar gown of red velvet, 
slashed with pink, a cap covered with holly berries, 
and imitation rubies studding her waist and binding 
her throat, her dark beauty set off by the gorgeous 
color that would have extinguished a less handsome 
girl. 

“ It’s really awful, it’s so splendid ! ” gasped Beth, 
while her cousins went into raptures over her white and 
gold which turned her into a fairylike creature, con- 
trasting beautifully with their higher coloring. 

“We’re going to have something by and by where 
we can wear these things with some one to see them 
besides the poor kiddies,” said Alys decidedly. “ Y ou’re 
beyond words, Beth ; we all are. If mama can’t do 
things right, then no one can ! Hurry down ; it’s time. 
I imagine there are a lot of youngsters here already ; 
they probably will come early. It will be a mercy if 


222 


BETH’S WONDER- WIJsTEE 


we don’t have to send them home in ambulances ; these 
costumes ought to finish them ! ” 

“ Oh, my dears ! ” cried Aunt Alida meeting her 
young folk in the hall. “ How more than satisfactory 
you are ! Are you pleased with my surprise for you ? 
Do you like the costumes ? ” 

“ I guess like isn’t the word for it,” said Dirk. “ But 
what’s the matter with you ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing, I hope,” laughed Mrs. Cortlandt. “ I’m 
Frau Santa Claus.” 

Aunt Alida wore a white gown with a white cloak 
swinging from her shoulders, and a white cap, wreathed 
with mistletoe and holly, with a single great poinsettia 
on its left side. Holly and mistletoe encircled her 
waist and fell like the ends of a girdle on her white 
skirt. The cloak and cap were made of material as thin 
as would submit to a bath of alum in which they had 
been dipped. The alum had crystallized on the cloth 
and the cap and cloak looked as if they were made of 
snow crust, glittering under the electric lights. 

“Aunt Alida, you are — I couldn’t say what you 
were ! ” Beth managed to say. 

“ Prettiest thing in old New York all the time, but the 
greatest ever to-night,” said Natalie, pretending to catch 
one of her mother’s lustrous dark strands of hair under 
her cap, though it had not gone astray. 

“ Well, if you aren’t the greatest mother on earth to 
get up all this, and keep it to yourself ! ” cried Alys, 
also finding her voice. “Is there a programme, 
mama ? ” 


“HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME 


223 


“ I am Frau Santa Claus, you are Christmas spirits ; 
we shall see Herr Santa Claus a little later,” said Mrs. 
Cortlandt. “ As to the programme — I don’t know, pre- 
cisely. You must each do all that you can to be jolly 
and to entertain, and we’ll trust to inspiration for the 
way as we go along. I think Christmas hymns first, 
however. I am having the children ushered into the 
music room now. Mr. Leonard is here to help us. He 
will announce the programme and lead the singing. 
Hark ! ” 

From below came the sound of feet scuffling and try- 
ing to march to the strains of an orchestra. The chil- 
dren were all assembled and were going in to behold the 
tree. 

“ Orchestra, mama ? ” asked Natalie, for this was a 
further surprise. 

“ A small one. I thought at the last moment how 
much it would add to the pleasure of those poor little 
souls,” whispered her mother. “Now we must go 
down.” 

She led the way in her snowy raiment to the music 
room and her attendant Christmas spirits followed her, 
in single file, to spread out the little procession as long 
as possible. The music came up to meet them, the old 
Christmas hymns played perfectly by a famous little 
orchestra. Beth was deeply impressed and much 
moved ; it seemed to her like all her dreams of Christ- 
mas, all the romance of olden time with which her lit- 
tle brain was well stored, made visible and audible. 

“ Mrs. Santa Claus and her four Christmas fairies are 


224 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


coming, children ! " Mr. Leonard called, making himself 
heard above the music. And Mrs. Cortlandt and the 
children came in. 

The music room was nearly filled. The servants of 
the Cortlandt household were gathered there ; Tim and 
his family had come in good time, thanks to Leon 
Charette and the car. There were a few of Mrs. Cort- 
landt’s intimate friends, who had begged to be allowed 
to see the fun, and Natalie, Alys and Dirk had invited 
a few of their favorite friends. For the rest the room 
held only the poor whom Beth and Anna Mary had 
searched out, except Liebchen, who stood — stood^ if you 
please ! — having the best time of any one, no longer a 
cripple, but a sound, healthy, joyous child, forever 
cured ! 

The faces of the children of the tenements were a 
study. Wide-eyed, half -frightened, wholly bewildered, 
they clutched one another, listening, looking, not un- 
derstanding, but entirely sure that nothing half as bliss- 
ful as this night had ever crossed the bare fields of their 
brief experiences. 

Slowly Aunt Alida led her four beautiful followers 
into the room, herself a vision of beauty. Awe fell 
upon the poor children and there was a sound as if they 
all drew in a long breath together. The tree blazed 
with a hundred electric lights, in small bulbs safely 
nestling amid its green needles and its shining orna- 
ments. Beth had not realized when she was helping 
trim it how glorious it would be. Its slender top 
reached high up into the vaulted ceiling. An angel. 


'' HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME 


226 


poised above it, seemed to have called it up into being 
with his outstretched hands. 

“ Mrs. Santa Claus ” and her train went back toward 
the organ. At a word from her the organist began to 
play “ Come hither, ye faithful.” Then the orchestra 
and organ repeated it, and Mrs. Santa Claus called: 
‘‘ Sing, children, sing for Christmas ! ” 

At first few sang besides her own children and the 
servants, but soon those of the poor children who could 
sing and who knew the hymn — and they were many — 
joined, till at the last stanza there was a fine volume of 
song, though words were largely lacking. One after 
another Mrs. Santa Claus called for the best, the dear- 
est of the Christmas hymns and the children sang them, 
getting intoxicated with the sound of their own voices 
blending with the orchestra. 

“ Hark ! ” cried Mrs. Santa Claus as the last note of 

Silent Night, Holy Night ” died away. Stillness fell 
upon the room. “ I hear bells ! ” cried Mrs. Santa 
Claus. “ It must be that my husband, Santa Claus, is 
coming ! ” 

Sure enough. Faint, but clear, came the sound of 
sleigh-bells, then it grew louder, was near! With a 
bound and a boisterous “ Hurrah ! ” into the room burst 
Santa Claus himself ! 

“ Three cheers for Santa Claus 1 ” cried Mr. Leonard, 
and led the cheers which nearly took the roof off, for 
this part of the programme suited the guests. 

“ Hallo, kids ! ” cried Santa Claus. He was a noble 
personage, all in red velvet, whitened with snow, 


226 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


icicles hanging from his fur-trimmed cap, toys bulging 
from his boots and many pockets. “ Any boy here got 
a horn ? ” 

Not a boy had, but Santa Claus had foreseen the 
lack and had come provided. 

“ How can you make a lot of noise without horns ? ” 
he asked. 

Turning to a great hamper that had been brought in 
behind him, he pulled out no end of horns and sum- 
moned half a dozen boys to distribute them. 

‘‘ Oh, may as well give ’em to the girls, too,” Santa 
Claus chuckled. “ They aren’t always so fond of being 
quiet, either ! 

“ Now,” announced Santa Claus, “ I’m going to give 
out a present or two I’ve brought for some of you. 
Each one of you has to stand up and take what I send 
you. And after each present is given, blow your 
horns, every one of you, and make a Merry Christmas 
of it ! ” 

“ Oh, Jim, it will deafen us ! ” murmured Mrs. Santa 
Claus, who in real life, also, was this gentleman’s wife. 

“ Nonsense, Alida ; the kids won’t have a good time 
unless they turn loose some sort of a hullabaloo ! ” 
Santa Claus whispered back. “ We’ve got to stand it. 
Come, Snow White, it is your party. You go with me 
giving out presents.” 

Beth looked frightened. “Not unless the others go 
too,” she said. 

So Natalie, Alys, Dirk and Beth began the little pil- 
grimage around the room, distributing presents. There 


HOLLY AHD JOLLY EHYME’’ 


227 


was a carefully prepared list of names and a package 
for each one which held the useful, warm things that 
each particular child most needed — Anna Mary had 
found out what these were — and with them were toys, 
candies, nuts, fruit in abundance. As each name was 
called atid ‘‘ Snow White ” put into each pair of red, 
roughened hands the gift that they were to carry away, 
a fearful blast of tin horns arose, quite ear-splitting and 
unbearable, but which, after a few repetitions, wrought 
the children into a frenzy of joy and effectually broke up 
the last remnant of awkwardness. 

It took a long time to give out the presents ; Santa 
Claus beckoned one or tw^o of his friends, who stood 
laughing, covering their ears, yet enjoying the scene 
immensely, to help Mr. Leonard and himself with the 
task. 

At last it was done and in the lull that followed Dirk 
and his boy friends trundled into the room four great 
freezers of ice-cream, set on flat wagons and decorated 
with Christmas greens. Then several of the Cortlandt 
servants, who had left the room, returned, carrying 
baskets of dishes and spoons, and trays heaped with 
cakes, iced in many colors. 

“ Well, what d’ye know about dat ! ” cried a small 
person, newsboy by profession, with such deep emotion 
in his voice that the entire roomful, great and small, 
shouted and the speaker tried to crawl out of sight on 
the floor, to which he immediately dove, but was fished 
up and set back on his chair by a relentless sister, a 
year his elder. 


228 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


There was enough ice-cream for every one to have 
two big helpings and cake for each one to eat his fill. 
If the children did not recognize their treat as furnished 
by a famous caterer, they did know that “it wa’n’t 
no slouch ice-cream,” as one child said, but decidedly 
superior to that sold from the tail of pushcarts in their 
own neighborhood. 

“Now, children dear, our Christmas tree has dropped 
all its fruits for you. There isn’t anything more for us 
to do but to say good-night, because you have far to go, 
many of you. Did you have a good time ? ” asked Mrs. 
Santa Claus of the entire roomful. 

“ Yes, ma’am ! ” “ You bet ! ” “ Sure thing ! ” came 

back her answer in various forms, but with one clear 
meaning. 

Suddenly a big boy got on his feet, pushed up decid- 
edly by many hands. He looked red and miserable, but 
he stuck to his guns. 

“ Dey want I should give you t’anks, all of yous. It 
was great, biggest ever. An’ we hopes yous all will git 
de best what’s cornin’ any place. An’ we wishes yous de 
biggest luck nex’ year. Much obliged.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Santa Claus. “ It is we who are 
much obliged to you for coming ! ” 

Whereupon the orchestra played the gayest airs it 
could and the guests reluctantly filed out of the beauti- 
ful room, turning back again and again to look at the 
tree, shining in its Christmas green, pointing upward. 
It told the children, if they had been wise enough to 
understand it, that the spirit of Christmas is from above 


‘WHOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME » 229 

and that it makes unfading spring time in a frozen 
world. 

“ Take off your costumes, children. Dinner will soon 
be served, though I don’t see how we can any of us eat 
it ! I’m deafened and worn out with that riotous 
celebration — but it was beautiful ! Your party was a 
success, Bethie ! ” said Mrs. Cortlandt. 

“ My party ! ” echoed Beth significantly. 

The children laid aside their costumes, not without 
regret, and appeared in their proper persons at dinner. 
Half a dozen of Mr. and Mrs. Cortlandt’s friends re- 
mained to dine and Natalie and Alys were allowed to 
ask a girl apiece. 

After dinner they went back to the music room. 
Once more the great tree was illumined ; the servants 
were called in. The Cortlandts distributed presents to 
their household, while the orchestra, which had been 
retained, played softly and a sense of peace, of profound 
peaceful joy, seemed to descend upon them, after the 
late hubbub. But it was the peace of the memory of 
that earlier good time and that they had given more 
than half a hundred children the Merry Christmas that 
otherwise they could not have known. 

Beth found herself snowed under with white parcels, 
tied with the Christmas colors. As gift after gift came 
into her overflowing little hands, she grew pale with 
excitement and sat down on the floor with them all in 
her lap, too burdened with emotion and too many gifts 
to stand up. Here she opened boxes and saw in a dazed 
way a little watch, such a ring as she had coveted hope- 


230 


BETH’S WONDEK-WINTEE 


lessly, books, pins, trinkets of all sorts, and at last even 
the perfect doll which she had said that she would like 
if she were not too big to play with it. And she knew 
the moment she saw it that it was so lovely that in some 
way she should shrink to the proper size to play with it. 

All the rest were getting presents, the servants, too. 
Beth felt that no one could describe this sort of Christ- 
mas so that a person who had not seen it could realize 
it. She foresaw herself trying to describe it to Aunt 
Kebecca and Janie, and failing. 

When the other packages were opened and examined 
Beth slyly opened one that had come to her from 
Aunt Kebecca. It was with doubt she opened it, 
fearing it might be something that her cousins 
would find droll. But it was a miniature, a beauti- 
ful painted miniature that she had never seen be- 
fore. Aunt Kebecca had put a card in its case and on 
the card was written in her fine, old-fashioned hand : 
“ This is your mother’s picture. I hope you will have 
a pleasant Christmas and be a good girl.” 

Beth quickly closed the miniature case and hid it in 
her frock. She did not want to show it to her mother’s 
family then ; another time, when there was less excite- 
ment, she would show it to Uncle Jim and ask him if it 
were like his sister. 

“ Each one must do something to entertain us,” an- 
nounced Aunt Alida, when the gifts had received full 
attention. 

The Cortlandts were accustomed to this. Uncle Jim 
sang a song and did some clever imitations. Aunt 


<< HOLLY AND JOLLY EHYME” 


231 


Alida also sang — she sang beautifully — and she and 
Natalie danced a curious folk dance that Beth thought 
was wonderful. 

Alys recited ; she had a dramatic gift. Dirk “ did 
stunts,” as he put it, fenced with Mr. Leonard, and 
showed his own athletic powers in solo. 

“ Bethie, we can’t let you off,” said Aunt Alida. 
“ Please, dear ! What can you do ? Sing ? Kecite ? 
You aren’t too tired?” For Beth was looking pale 
from her many emotions of the evening. 

“ No, Aunt Alida, but I don’t do anything nice,” said 
Beth mournfully. 

“Kecite something you have learned in school, 
honey,” suggested Aunt Alida. 

“ I don’t know anything for Christmas, except the 
second chapter of St. Matthew. I learned that by 
heart,” said Beth timidly. 

“ There could be nothing better, darling,” said Aunt 
Alida. “ Please tell us that story, Bethie.” 

So Beth arose, pale and frightened, and began that 
simple gospel. Her voice gained strength as she went 
on, forgetting herself, remembering it was Christmas 
eve and carried away by what she was saying. 

“ That was best of all. It was like a benediction on 
our Christmas festival,” said Aunt Alida kissing her as 
she ended. 


CHAPTEE XIY 


DIEK ENTERTAINS 


HE Sunday after Christmas found Mr. Cortlandt 



1 kept in the house by a cold. Beth sought him out 
in the evening and found him beside his library fire. 
The logs burned cheerily, snapping and crackling ; the 
red flames and impish sparks looked most alluring on 
this cold night. 

Beth came across the thick carpet without a sound of 
a footfall ; in her hand she carried the miniature which 
Aunt Eebecca had sent her at Christmas. 

“ Uncle Jim,” she said, pausing. 

Mr. Cortlandt started. “ Why, Elizabeth -Beth ! ” he 
cried. “You must have caught me napping. You 
made me jump. Glad to see you, puss. Come enjoy 
my fire with me. Isn’t this a fire to enjoy ? ” He put 
out his left hand and drew Beth down on the arm of 
his big leather chair, within the circle of his arm. 

“ Fires look so glad, fires in fireplaces,” said Beth, 
perching herself close to her uncle’s shoulder. “ When 
they are burning houses they dance even more, but 
they never look glad then ; only cruel. I suppose it is 
because in fireplaces they are doing their best to make 
us warm and happy. Aunt Eebecca had the front of 
the old fireplace at home torn out. They had boarded 


232 



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DIEK ENTEETAINS 


233 


it up for a stove. Now it is the biggest, splendidest 
fireplace ! Sometimes we can get wood from the sea- 
shore — the sea is about nine miles from Aunt Kebecca’s 
— and when we do we have the loveliest fires, all colors 
in the fiames ! Uncle Jim, see what Aunt Kebecca 
sent me. IVe been waiting to show it to you.” 

Beth held out her hand with the closed velvet case 
of the miniature in its palm. Mr. Cortlandt took it, 
opened it, and Beth heard him draw in his breath 
sharply as he leaned backward and held the miniature 
over the back of his chair to allow the light from the 
reading lamp to fall on it. For a moment he did not 
speak, then he said : 

“ Do you know how your great-aunt came by this 
picture, Bethie ? ” 

“ I didn’t when it came, but I had a letter from Aunt 
Kebecca yesterday and she told me about it. My 
father had it painted. Aunt Kebecca has had it laid 
away all this time to give me when I was old enough 
to appreciate it, she says ; I never saw it in all my life 
till it came on Christmas eve. You know who it is ? 
Is it good. Uncle Jim ? ” Beth asked anxiously. 

It is perfect,” declared Uncle Jim, and his voice 
was husky. “ Know it, child ? I not only know the 
miniature, but I know a great many things when I look 
at it that I wish I could have known years ago. But 
I was too young, too heedless, too thoroughly a boy to 
know these things then. If you look in the glass, Beth, 
you must see for yourself that it is an excellent like- 
ness of your girl-mother, for it is also a good likeness 


234 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


of you. You are like her, Bethie, but you are graver, 
your eyes are not as laughing, until something makes 
you laugh. My little sister Nannie overflowed with 
gaiety that was in herself ; she was a merry, soft-hearted 
kitten, but there was a fund of strength beneath the 
gentle affectionate ways, as she proved, as she proved, 
poor, steadfast little Nannie ! ” 

Mr. Cortlandt was silent for a while and Beth did 
not interrupt his thoughts, though she longed to ask 
questions. 

“ Beth,” Mr. Cortlandt began again after a few mo- 
ments, “ you said something one day not long ago that 
gave me a pang. Do you remember when you told me 
that you had once been jealous of New York’s superior- 
ity in age to Massachusetts ? You also said, when I 
told you that your kindred had a part in its beginnings, 
that you had not realized then that you had Cortlandt 
relatives. It made me feel sorry and ashamed to know 
that this must be true.” 

“ Oh, but Uncle Jim, I know now ! It doesn’t 
matter ! I suppose I always knew my mother had re- 
lations. I meant I never thought about them,” cried 
Beth, her cheek instantly rubbing against her uncle’s, 
as if to efface all regrets he might feel. 

“ Your part of it is all right, Bethie ; mine isn’t,” 
said Uncle Jim, stroking the fair hair which tickled 
him. “ Tell me ; what do you know about your 
mother ? What has your Bristead great-aunt told 
you ? ” 

“ Not much. I know she died when I was just born 


DIEK EJSfTEETAIKS 


235 


and my father died four months before that. I know 
she wasn’t old a bit ; only twenty-three, but that is on 
her stone, if you count up. When my father knew he 
couldn’t get well he took my mother to Aunt Eebecca. 
I think that’s all I know. Aunt Eebecca never liked 
to talk about my mother. She always said she would 
by and by. I didn’t know whether that was because 
she liked her too well to talk about her, or not well 
enough. It would act just the same on Aunt Eebecca. 
Of course I wanted dreadfully to hear about her ; any 
girl would,” Beth ended with a suggested appeal to her 
uncle now to supply her lack of knowledge. 

“ Wouldn’t my knee be more comfortable than the 
chair arm ? ” asked Mr. Cortlandt. “ That’s better, 
more cozy, too ! Well, Beth, I am going to tell you 
about your mother. I was five years older than she 
was, so I ought to have been more sympathetic, have 
stood by her. But in justice to myself I think I may 
say that I did not in the least realize, as I do now, that 
she must have longed and hungered for a brother’s 
kindness in those bitter months of her widowhood ; in- 
deed I did not realize anything about her, feeling that 
she had chosen her own lot and that it would all come 
out right in the end. I was entirely occupied with my 
own young life just then. Nannie was a lovely little 
creature ; she was trusting, gentle, loving, obedient, 
but when she fell in love with your father she never 
could be persuaded to give him up. Your father was 
a fine fellow, Beth ; the Bristeads were good old stock, 
as you evidently have been taught, and he was all he 


236 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


ought to be. But he hadn’t a cent in the world, and 
no certainty of having much more, so your Grandfather 
Cortlandt forbade his tenderly cared-for little daughter 
to marry him. Father was afraid that Nannie would 
suffer. But Nannie would not give up your father. 
Instead she gave up her home and its luxury and mar- 
ried him. My father was furiously angry, angry with 
Nannie for disobeying him, still more angry with your 
father for letting her share the risks of his future, and 
he had not forgiven either of them when the end came, 
so swiftly that there was no time to heal the breach. 
As you say, your father had taken his young wife to 
his father’s home and to the care of his father’s sister 
when he found he could not live. Miss Bristead was 
too proud and too angry on her side that her nephew 
should have been forbidden to marry the girl he chose, 
to let my father know when Nannie’s husband died. 
If Nannie could have lived I know that my father 
would have sent for her to come back and that she, 
with you in her arms, would have nestled into her old 
place in her home. But Nannie died and father was 
crushed, heart-sick with the worst of sorrow, regret for 
a separation that death had made permanent. He was 
more than satisfied to leave you with the Bristeads ; he 
died four years after Nannie’s death. I have always 
had in mind to look up Nannie’s child, but the years 
slipped away without doing it. I, too, have had my 
share of the pain of self-reproach that I thoughtlessly 
left my little sister to her fate. Thoughtlessly ; not 
unkindly, I am glad to say, for I never shared father’s 


DIEK ENTEETAINS 


237 


anger against Nannie. I heedlessly took for granted 
that she was where she had chosen to be and that it 
was no affair of mine. So you grew up a real little 
Beth Bristead, not knowing, as you said, that you had 
Cortlandt relatives, till this winter. At last I aroused 
to action and sent for you. Tell me, in your mother’s 
name, that my carelessness is forgiven. For we love 
you so much, Beth, dear child, that neither your Aunt 
Alida nor I, nor your cousins, for that matter, will ever 
again let you slip out of our grasp.” 

Beth kissed her uncle by way of an answer that she 
could not give in words. The sad story of her girl- 
mother’s brief life had been told so simply that she 
understood it, as far as any one, old or young, ever can 
understand what they have not lived through them- 
selves. 

“Was it very wrong for my father and mother to 
disobey Grandfather Cortlandt and marry ? ” asked 
Beth at last. 

“Wrong, dear? Well, I am sure that they did not 
think so. I am certain that they believed that they 
loved each other so truly that it would have been 
wrong to act otherwise,” Mr. Cortlandt said. “But, 
yes, it was wrong, though I am confident they did not 
see it. I have two daughters of my own — and a niece ! 
— and I should not be willing to let them take the 
chance of poverty. Older people see these things dif- 
ferently from romantic youngsters. Nannie and her 
lover ought, at least, to have waited till he had proved 
what he could do for her. They were young enough 


238 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


to afford to wait. But that is just why they could not 
wait ; young people never think they can waste a year 
or so. It is only when there aren’t many years left 
that people begin to see that there is plenty of time. 
That is a contradiction which I do not expect you to 
understand, Bethikins ! Ah, well ! That story has 
had finis written against it this many a day ! I am 
sure that Nannie was happy for the short time allowed 
her, and I doubt she was ever sorry that she braved all 
things for your father. In any case her marriage gave 
you to us, little Beth, so if the story that is finished 
has a sad ending, the sequel to it is the happiest one 
possible.” 

“ Aunt Eebecca has tried very hard indeed to make 
me grow up properly,” said Beth, with the funny little 
gravity that was the result of this same “proper” 
growing up. 

“ I don’t suppose there could be a better foundation 
than her old-fashioned, strict training,” admitted Uncle 
Jim. “ Your Aunt Alida is the best person in all the 
world to build beautifully on that solid foundation. 
Between us all, Beth, you ought to turn out an orna- 
ment to your sex and a glory to your country.” 

Beth laughed, as her uncle intended her to; he 
thought there had been enough serious talk and he 
wanted to see Beth’s eyes dance and her dimple 
come. 

“I may as well tell you, niece of mine, that your 
‘Wonder- Winter,’ as I hear you call it, is to be fol- 
lowed by a Wonder-Summer — or I hope it will prove 


DIEK ENTERTAINS 


239 


one ! At any rate you are going with us to our sum- 
mer home. It is a pretty nice place, Beth ; we think 
it is liiost beautiful, house and grounds and neighbor- 
ing ocean, and all our friends say so, too. We have a 
little theatre there where my children give plays, and 
we sail and bathe and are happy all the day long, and 
every day. You and Trump will revel in it, I’m posi- 
tive. So make up your mind that the winter wonders 
will melt into greater summer wonders for you, Bethi- 
kins, my dear.” 

“ Oh, Uncle Jim ! Isn’t that splendid ! I’ve been 
dreading spring ! ” cried Beth. Then her face fell ; she 
drooped in every muscle of her body. “ But Aunt 
Rebecca ! ” she sighed. “ Don’t you think she must be 
lonely, Uncle Jim ? ” 

“ Truth compels me to admit that I don’t see how 
she can help missing you, Bethie,” her uncle conceded. 
‘‘I have written to her, putting before her the fact 
that she has had you ten years and a little more, while 
we have only had you this winter — though that is our 
own fault ; that makes it all the worse ! I asked her 
to tell me if she got on fairly well without you, re- 
minding her that we could do a great deal for your 
happiness and to your advantage. Miss Bristead has 
replied briefly that she is getting on well, that she 
would not consider making any claim upon you that 
kept you from your best good, and that if you wanted 
to stay with us longer and could assure her conscien- 
tiously that you were safe, and not being harmed, she 
would consent to sparing you. So, unless you think 


240 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


we are doing mischief to you, Beth, ours you are to be 
for a long time to come.” 

“ Oh, doesn’t that sound just like Aunt Rebecca ! ” 
cried Beth. “ She’s so afraid I’ll not be nice ! But 
she wouldn’t stand in the way, if she died getting out 
of the way — I mean in the way of something best for 
me. She is good ; Aunt Rebecca really is good ! But 
perhaps she won’t mind much if I’m gone just this 
summer longer! There’s so much to take up your 
mind in summer — preservings and cannings and fight- 
ing files 1 Aunt Rebecca won’t let one fly pull his head 
forward and rub it with his feet in her house the way 
they do. She flaps him with a folded newspaper be- 
fore he can twiddle his feet once ! She has a great 
deal more to take up her attention in summer than she 
has in winter. Oh, Uncle Jim, I guess the honest 
truth is I want to think Aunt Rebecca won’t care if 
I’m away, I want to stay so dreadfully, dreadfully 
much 1 ” 

‘‘ The greatest good of the greatest number ! On 
that principle you ought to stay because there are so 
many of us to one Aunt Rebecca, and we want you to 
stay ‘ so dreadfully, dreadfully much ’ ! ” Mr. Cort- 
landt affirmed this statement with a pat on Beth’s 
shoulder. 

At this moment Beth’s girl cousins came into the 
library, followed by Dirk with an air of wishing there 
were something to do better than following them. 

“ Where in the world are you, Beth ? ” cried Alys, 
unnecessarily, since her eyes were on her cousin as she 


DIEK ENTEETAINS 


241 


spoke. “WeVe looked everywhere for you. What 
can you and father be doing in this dim light ? ” 

“Beth and I have been chatting in the firelight, 
Alys,” Mr. Cortlandt replied for Beth. “Dim light 
and brilliant talk often go together. Though has our 
conversation been brilliant, Miss Bristead ? ” 

“It has been nice,” said Beth decidedly, slipping 
from her perch, recognizing that the quiet hour she had 
enjoyed so much was over. 

“ I’m going to have a Twelfth Night revel — in the 
afternoon. You’re asked,” Dirk announced to Beth, 
meeting her in the hall a day or two after New Year’s. 

“ Beans in cake, king and queen, all those things ? ” 
cried Beth eagerly, instantly reverting to her favorite 
ballads and romance at the name of Twelfth Night. 

“ Beans ! Beans in cake ! You mean raisins, don’t 
you ? ” asked Dirk staring. 

“ No. But it was only one bean ; I remember now. 
Whoever got the bean in the cake was king of the 
revel,” explained Beth. 

“Well, I’m the king of my own revel, only there 
isn’t a bean about it and I’m not going to say I’m run- 
ning it. I’m not going to ask one single girl but you. I 
suppose Nat and Alys will be around, but I’m not go- 
ing to ask them ; maybe they’ll have something else on 
the go. I’ve asked the boys and you. We’re going to 
have it in the gym. Bob Leonard’ll come. You wear 
that white and gold thing you had on at the Christmas 
tree. W e’re going to play something that’ll just come in 
to fit. Will you come, Beth ? ” Dirk ended anxiously, 


242 BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 

as if he feared his taste in revels might not appeal to 
Beth. 

“ ’Course,” Beth accepted briefly. “ Do I have to 
know ahead what the game is ? ” 

“ No.” Dirk shook his head hard. “ All you’ll do, 
most likely, is sit around and look the part. You’re to 
be a captive white princess, if you want to know, and 
we’re going to have a tournament, an Indian tourna- 
ment, about you.” 

“ Fighting ? Does Aunt Alida know ? ” asked Beth 
nervously. 

“ Sure she knows, has to order the eats, doesn’t she ? 
Don’t get scared, Beth ; nothing’ll happen,” Dirk as- 
sured Beth kindly. 

Natalie and Aiys had no more desire to go to Dirk’s 
Twelfth Night party than he had to have them come. 
He scorned “ a lot of girls ” ; they looked down on “ a 
little boys’ party,” so they were quits, each faction 
comfortably superior to the other. 

The girls went to lunch and to a matinee party with a 
friend of theirs. Beth found herself wondering whether 
the honor of being the one girl invited was not going 
to prove a burden. She watched Frieda making her 
pretty in her Christmas white and gold costume with 
no little dread of this Twelfth Night revel. 

Dirk was waiting for her on the stairs. She found 
him a forbidding brave in Indian costume, feathers, 
paint, tomahawk and all, and his whoop hailing her 
sent her heart to the soles of her feet, though she knew 
him, of course. 


DIRK ENTERTAINS 


243 


“ Dirk, they won’t all yell like that, right in my ears, 
and flourish a tomahawk, will they ? ” Beth protested. 

“ Oh, come now, Beth, be a sport ! ” Dirk reasoned 
with her. I suppose they will, else what would be 
the use of dressing up like Indians? You stood the 
Christmas horns, you ought to be able to stand boys 
yelling. If I’d thought you were going to be finnified- 
fine-ladyish, like Alys, I wouldn’t have asked you, 
either.” 

In her heart Beth wished he had not, but she felt in 
honor bound not to be any more disappointing than she 
could help. 

“ All right, Dirk ; I won’t mind — much, and I’ll play 
my best. What do you want me to do ? ” she asked. 

“I knew you’d be a sport,” cried Dirk, relieved. 
“ Why, the fellows are all in there. I bring you in as 
a captive, see ? And they all set upon us, but my tribe 
— we’re evenly divided — fights the hostile Indians, and 
so I get over to my wigwam. We’ve got it all made 
up ; they tackle me when I go in. Then I leave you 
in the wigwam and we all fight ; regular gym stunts. 
Bob Leonard’s to be umpire and see it’s all on the level. 
My side has to win, ’cause if it doesn’t, why, the other 
side gets the captive, see ? W e’ll have to try, all 
right ; we’re divided as fair as we could make it.” 

“What happens if the other side gets the captive — 
or if your side keeps her ? ” asked Beth with pardon- 
able anxiety. 

“Why, why — I don’t know! We keep her, or we 
don’t ; that’s about all ; win the fight, don’t you see ? 


244 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


After that — well, after that I guess we cool off and 
have the eats,” Dirk explained. 

Beth laughed. “ Sounds like ‘ the king of France 
went up the hill with twenty thousand men.’ I guess 
I needn’t mind playing that,” she said. 

“ Come on, then ; they’re all waiting,” Dirk urged 
her. “ I have to skulk up to the gym door and open it 
as quiet ! Bring my captive in on the sly, see ? They’ll 
all yell like sixty when they see us, so be ready.” 

They did yell like sixty ! Beth thought they yelled 
like ten times sixty. In spite of her preparation for 
the onslaught she shrank back as the horrid din smote 
her. Then she fulfilled her promise to play the best 
she could and resumed her haughty bearing, the scorn- 
ful, unmoved pride of a noble white lady in the hands 
of savages, whose only weapon against them was her 
contempt for the worst that they could do. 

No one could distinguish friendly Indians from the 
foes of her captor, for they were all in war paint and 
feathers, all brandishing tomahawks and yelling in- 
sanely, and they all fell on one another in a khaki- 
colored snarl of contest. 

Gradually the snarl divided to Beth’s eyes and by 
degrees half fell back and allowed the other half, with 
Dirk at their head, dragging Beth by the wrists, to 
progress to the further end of the great room. 

“ Say, don’t come along so easy ; you ought to hold 
back,” Dirk whispered to her. 

“No, I ought not,” Beth retorted. “If I couldn’t 
get away and knew it, I’d come along quietly, to trick 


DIEK ENTERTAINS 


245 


you. Hannah Dustin kept still till she got her chance, 
then she killed the Indians and escaped. That’s ex- 
actly the way I’m acting my part.” 

Dirk was silenced. When Beth came down on him 
with an historical fact he wilted — and Beth had an in- 
convenient number of historical facts at her tongue’s 
end. 

When Dirk, as chief, deposited his captive on a chair 
at the extreme end of the gymnasium, called, for con- 
venience, his wigwam, he went on the war path again, 
and this time the fight was unimpeded by a captive and 
was waged thoroughly. 

Though she knew that Mr. Leonard would not let 
the boys get carried away by the game, Beth’s heart 
beat hard with excitement. After a while Beth saw 
that the fight followed rules and that Dirk’s side was, 
on the whole, getting the best of it. Certain strokes 
counted as wounds, others were reckoned fatal and on 
receiving these the brave thus hit dropped out and was 
dragged aside. It was more interesting than Beth had 
expected to find it, though as little like a Twelfth Night 
revel as it well could be. 

When Dirk’s side was reduced to three spirited 
braves, yelling defiance to foes now outnumbering 
them by more than twice their number, Dirk turned to 
his tribe, crying : 

“ Shall we fight till we kill them all ? The pale- 
faces will say the red man never shows mercy. Let’s 
capture them and torture them and make them work 
for us, but let them keep their scalps. Saying this the 


246 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


Big Chief Eide-on-the-Wind sprang to the top of the 
highest pine tree to overlook the field of battle.” 

With which speech, modeled on his best Indian 
stories, Dirk made a standing jump and rapidly swung 
himself to the top of the highest trapeze in the 
gymnasium. 

“ And the band played ‘ From the land of the sky 
blue water they brought a captive maid ! ’ ” cried Mr. 
Leonard applauding his pupil’s feat. 

Beth applauded, too, enjo3dng this part of the game 
immensely, when a sharp rending sound penetrated the 
laughter and she saw Mr. Leonard’s face turn ghastly 
white as he paused with his upraised hands arrested in 
applause. It was but an instant, too brief to measure, 
the space of an indrawn breath, and one side of the 
lofty trapeze parted, the horizontal bar swung down 
on one end, swaying and twisting violently, and Dirk 
plunged head downward, clutching at the bar, missing 
it, falling headlong. 

As death seemed to grip Beth’s heart in the horrible 
silence of that instant, Mr. Leonard leaped forward, 
caught Dirk with his hands and shoulders, sank 
beneath the boy’s weight, and received his fall, his 
body a cushion for the impact which he had broken as 
he clutched Dirk. 

Another instant, and no one spoke or moved, then 
the boys rushed forward, shutting the group on the 
floor from Beth’s eyes. She arose and tried to go 
toward them, but could not take a step. Then a great 
shout rang out and the boys pulled Dirk to his feet and 


DIEK ENTEETAINS 


247 


Mr. Leonard got up, dusting himself, trying to laugh, 
but making a sorry failure of it with his lips blue and 
drawn, his whole body visibly trembling. 

“No harm done. Captive Maid ! ” Mr. Leonard called 
to poor little quivering Beth as she stood clinging to 
her chair, looking out over the boys’ heads with big 
eyes staring from a white, pinched face. 

Dirk went over to her. “ Scared, Bethie ? Pretty 
close call. What do you think of Bob Leonard now ? 

Not a bump on me. I guess — I guess mother ” 

Dirk stopped short. To his disgust he was crying, “ in 
front of the fellows ! ” 

But no one seemed to mind. Not an Indian, foe or 
friendly, but that was choking tearfully, so no one 
could criticize Dirk for being shaken when he had so 
narrowly escaped death. 

“ Dirk, oh, Dirk, I was so frightened ! ” sobbed Beth. 
She longed to put her arms around her cousin and cry 
herself quiet, holding him to make sure she actually 
had him still, but she knew that Dirk would never 
allow such a display of emotion before an audience. 

Beth looked at Mr. Leonard. It seemed to her that 
he loomed tall and marvelous and that she could see 
glory all around him. 

“You saved Dirk’s life. What do you suppose 
Uncle Jim and Aunt Alida will say?” she said, chok- 
ing back the sob that tried to end her sentence. 

“ Don’t you think they’ll overlook it ? ” Mr. Leonard 
managed to laugh this time. “ I merely jumped and 
caught Dirk. Didn’t I play first base on the college 


248 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


team ? I’ve caught harder and smaller balls than that. 
You’d have jumped, too, Bethie ; don’t make so much 
of what I did. It was a good thing I was here, 
that’s all. What I’d like to know is what made that 
trapeze give way. It’s the best apparatus on the 
market. Indeed I don’t mean to make light of what 
has happened. Dirk had a frightful fall. I am deeply 
thankful, deeply thankful that I could catch him. 
Good old chap ! ” 

He put his arm over Dirk’s shoulder with his fine 
young face full of affection. Dirk looked up at him 
adoringly. “ I tell you what. Bob Leonard,” he said, 
“ I’d just as lief have you save my life as any one.” 

Then, in the nick of time to break up a nervous 
strain that threatened to be too much for a boys’ frolic, 
what Dirk had called “ the eats ” appeared. There 
were sandwiches and hot chocolate, cakes of many sorts 
and ice-cream in forms, each form an Indian, except 
one, and that was a lovely maiden in bisque and straw- 
berry so disposed that one could easily imagine that it 
represented pink and white youthful prettiness. 

“ Say, isn’t my mother just one ! Goes and orders 
Indians for us and never lets on, because I told her 
what we were going to play to-day ! ” cried Dirk. 

“ Here, this girl’s for you, Beth, and the rest don’t 
matter. The chocolate Indians are the nearest the real 
thing in looks.” Dirk passed the cream as he talked 
and urged his friends to help themselves freely to the 
cakes, which, to do them justice, they were perfectly 
ready to do. 


DIEK ENTEETAINS 


249 


Beth could hardly eat ; she chipped off the ends of 
her maiden’s hair and nibbled a cake, but she still saw 
Dirk’s body dashing through the air and her head 
swam. She wondered at the boys who, without ex- 
ception, though some of them began to eat slowly, all 
rose superior to nerves and tucked away Mrs. Cortlandt’s 
refreshments rapidly. Even Mr. Leonard, who was a 
boy, too, of a larger size, proved as equal to this oc- 
casion as he had been to the danger. 

After the refreshments there never seems to be much 
for which to linger and Dirk’s Twelfth JS’ight party 
broke up shortly. When the eating was over the sense 
of solemnity returned and the boys were ill at ease. 
Dirk was evidently glad when the last one had departed 
and he could go to his room to resume the garments of 
the white race. 

That evening at dinner Dirk was a hero. Natalie 
and Alys hung upon his every word. Natalie visibly 
glowed when he ate with hearty relish, apparently re- 
lieved by proof that he was thoroughly and boyishly alive. 

Alys smiled at every word Dirk spoke ; she spoke to 
him softly, with the greatest affection, as though she 
feared to startle him if she used her ordinary tone. 
She told him that if he still wanted the camera which 
he thought better than his own, he might have it. She 
added that she was sorry she had not given it to him at 
once. 

Dirk grinned at this and openly winked at Beth, 
calling upon her to share his glee over Alys’s conver- 
sion to him. 


250 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


But Beth’s smile in return was full of unmixed joy ; 
she did not think it was funny that Alys discovered 
that her one brother was a precious possession, after all. 

Mr. Cortlandt watched Dirk in a hidden way and his 
face was full of emotion. Aunt Alida toyed with her 
dinner and did not try to hide the tears that choked 
her. No one could forget what a different household 
theirs might have been that night but for Bob Leonard’s 
quickness of mind and hand. 

After dinner Beth saw her aunt fold Dirk in her arms 
and hold him close while the lad dropped his head on 
her breast like a little child. 

“ My son, my one little, little son ! ” murmured Aunt 
Alida. “ If I had lost you I could not have lived ! ” 

“ I know it, mummy. I was glad right away Bob 
Leonard caught me, for your sake,” returned Dirk. 
“ I’d have hated like everything to have had you come 
home if — if he hadn’t.” 

Beth heard with surprise. She had fancied that Aunt 
Alida loved her girls better, if there were a difference, 
than she loved her boy. She treated Dirk with a play- 
ful carelessness and he rarely showed feeling when he 
was with her, whereas the girls openly worshiped her 
beauty and her charm. 

Evidently this son and mother understood each other 
without demonstrations. Beth wondered, feeling that 
she was learning a great deal. She went to bed a tired 
little girl, worn out by excitement and emotion. Her 
last thought on the borderland of sleep was a grateful 
one that all her dear people were happy that night. 


CHAPTER XY 


CHRYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 

B eth had a slight cold so could not go out. Her 
birthday was Valentine’s Day and her cousins 
hinted at some delightfully mysterious way in which it 
was to be celebrated and for which she must be per- 
fectly well, so Beth was nursing her cold in the house, 
St. Valentine’s feast — and hers — being but a week dis- 
tant. 

Liebchen and Annunciata had been sent for to spend 
the afternoon. Both these children regarded Beth as a 
sort of distinct order of being, compounded of equal 
parts of a good fairy, a dear little girl, an almost-big 
girl — for they were both younger than Beth — a grand 
lady to admire, a warm-hearted friend to love, and they 
proceeded to love her in the combined ways and to the 
degree all these sides demanded. 

When there was a chance amid her whirl of pleasures, 
Beth was allowed to ask her worshipers to visit her. 
They had come to-day and Beth was romping with 
them as she never could romp with Natalie and Alys. 
When they went home there would be gifts for them, 
pretty ribbons, some candy, a toy or two and perhaps a 
simple, pretty little frock. The consciousness of this 
possibility, based on past experiences, added no little to 
251 


252 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


Liebchen’s and Annunoiata’s enjoyment of the frolic 
while they were with Beth. 

Dirk had joined Beth and her guests and Beth had 
suggested and directed a new play. Liebchen and An- 
nunciata did not understand it, but it necessitated 
dressing up so it did not matter why they had to do 
this always agreeable thing. Dirk did not enter far 
into Beth’s enthusiasm for the game, but, as he said, he 
“ made a stagger at playing it,” and Beth’s imagina- 
tion did not need much fuel to feed its flames. 

“ I shall be Mary, Queen of Scots,” she elucidated. 
“You will be the faithful Douglas, Dirk, who adores 
her and tries to make her life in prison less miserable. 
Liebchen and Annunciata must be the four Maries — I 
mean two of the queen’s Maries. They were her ladies 
in waiting, you know.” 

“ Switched if I do ! ” declared Dirk. “ Where do 
you get all this stuff, Beth ? History ? ” 

“ Well, not plain history,” admitted Beth. “ I just 
love the Border Ballads and all those things. And 
‘ The Abbot,’ you know, one of the Waverley novels, is 
all about Queen Mary ; I’ve read it and read it ! I play 
I’m Mary Queen of Scots half the time at home. Janie 
can’t stand the Waverley novels ; I looked over some I 
don’t care about, either. But ‘ The Abbot ’ and ‘ Kenil- 
worth ’ and ‘ Ivanhoe ’ and ‘ The Talisman ’ — goodness, 
Dirk, I should think you’d love them ! I like ‘ Guy 
Mannering,’ too. Janie plays I’m Mary Stuart at 
Lochleven Castle pretty nicely, though. I’ve ]vi^imade 
her listen to the best parts of ‘ The Abbot,’ so she 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


253 


could. She has to be Catharine Seyton, of course. 
When she puts her arm through the bolt place to fasten 
the door — oh ! Well, we must play now. I’ll tell you 
what to say and do. You don’t have to dress up 
much ” 

“ I’m not going to dress up at all.” Dirk decided that 
at once. 

“ I suppose your suit would answer,” said Beth 
doubtfully; she recognized Dirk’s determination and 
that she should lose his support unless she compromised. 
‘‘ Knickerbockers and a jacket are something like trunks 
and a doublet. All right ; you stay as you are. But 
Liebchen and Annunciata must have long trained skirts 
and head-dresses and some jewels ; not many, because 
the queen could not give them much when she was in 
misfortune. You wait here, Dirk, and I’ll take them to 
my room to fix up. Aunt Alida gave me perfectly 
magnificent robes of state to dress up in, old silk 
dresses of hers. We’ll be back soon.” 

Beth hurried her two attendants away before her and 
presently they all returned, splendid to behold in their 
finery. 

Liebchen wore a blue moire silk skirt that not merely 
trailed behind her, but was so long in front that it had 
to be looped up through a girdle around her hips, and 
this gave her quite the effect of a lady of the period 
which she represented. Annunciata wore a yellow 
gown, equally too long for her, equally puffy around 
her hips. Both had head-dresses with feathers and 
jewels, both were decked with chains and each carried 


254 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


a fan — merely as a touch of vague elegance. Beth, as 
the hapless queen, wore a royal robe of purple velvet 
and a cap of lavender with a long white veil flowing 
down her shoulders. Her head-dress came down in a 
point in the middle of her forehead so that there, at 
least, she looked like the portraits of Mary Stuart and a 
clever person might guess whom she represented. 

“ Gracious ! You do look like I don’t know what ! ” 
exclaimed Dirk candidly. “ I don’t blame whoever it 
was that did it for putting you into prison, if there 
wasn’t any asylum those days ! Now what do you 
do — what’s the game, after you get togged out ? ” 

Beth looked a little troubled ; Dirk had laid his finger 
on the weak spot in these imaginative plays of hers. 
Nothing actual ever came of the dressing up; it all 
depended on how much the players could get out of 
feeling their parts. 

“Why, I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I think 
the captive queen had better walk about her prison, 
under the guard of George Douglas— that’s you. We 
can go through the house — nobody’s around — and pre- 
tend it’s Lochleven Castle. My ladies in waiting will 
walk behind me and sometimes I shall invite one or the 
other to take her place at my side. We’ll come back 
up-stairs afterward and they will sing, I guess. The 
queen’s ladies sang a good deal while she embroidered, 
or wrote Latin prayers, or French poetry.” 

“ Well, if that isn’t a lively game ! ” cried Dirk with 
a shout of laughter. “ The queen must have had some 
head if she could write prayers and poetry in two Ian- 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


255 


guages with people singing around her. If a bunch 
of girls sang I think I see what my Latin and French 
exercises would look like! Well, come on, if you’re 
going to promenade ! Come on ; queen’s move ! Bob 
Leonard’s been teaching me chess.” 

Beth preceded down the hall, her step stately, her 
carriage aimed to convey dignity, resignation and suffer- 
ing. She felt that she actually was the imprisoned 
queen and her eyes glowed with inward light as she 
dwelt upon her misfortunes, a royal prisoner in this 
lonely northern island castle, with hope fading day by 
day. She managed to overlook the awkwardness of 
her ladies in their looped up gowns, even the school- 
boy suit of “ George Douglas,” which distressed her 
till she forcibly banished it from her mind. 

The funny little cavalcade proceeded down to the 
lower hall and lifted the curtain of the library door. 
Here the queen felt that she should find the setting 
most like the dark castle of her imagination. “ George 
Douglas ” held the leather curtain back for her and her 
attendants to pass through. 

To the children’s horror there sat at the further end 
of the room, facing the door beside a tea wagon and a 
small table with an alcohol kettle boiling upon it, Aunt 
Alida and a lady whom Beth and Dirk thought they 
had never seen before. This lady laughed at the appa- 
rition in the doorway and Aunt Alida smiled reassur- 
ingly to Beth. 

“ No harm done, Beth dear. Come in, please. Evi- 
dently you did not know I was at home. Come and 


256 


BETH'S WONDEE-WIETEE 


show us your costumes. To whom have I the honor of 
speaking ? I see it is not Beth Bristead," said Aunt 
Alida, holding out an inviting hand. 

Beth came forward shyly, but smiling as she saw 
sympathy and understanding in the stranger’s beautiful 
blue eyes. She was not precisely pretty ; beside Aunt 
Alida’s brilliant beauty she looked almost plain. But 
her eyes were lovely, her bearing graceful and refined. 
Beth decided on the spot that she was “ nice,” and that 
she need not mind being seen by this unknown lady in 
her costume. 

“We were playing that I was Mary, Queen of Scots, 
Aunt Alida,” said Beth. “ Liebchen and Annunciata 
are ladies in waiting. Dirk is George Douglas, only 
he wouldn’t dress up. Out of ‘ The Abbot,’ you 
know.” 

“Oh, really!” exclaimed Aunt Alida’s guest with 
an accent so unmistakably English that Beth recog- 
nized it. “How delightful to find children enjoying 
Sir Walter Scott ! My little girl and boys won’t read 
an older classic than Kipling and Barrie. Will you 
present me to her majesty, Mrs. Cortlandt, please ? ” 

“ In real life this is my husband’s niece, Elizabeth 
Bristead, my only son, Dirk, and two protegees of 
Beth’s. But now — Lady Harrowdene, I present you 
to her majesty, the Queen of Scotland. Queen Mary, 
graciously receive Lady Caroline Patricia, Countess of 
Harrowdene.” Aunt Alida arose to make the presenta- 
tion and her guest also arose, making the profound 
courtesy required in a court presentation, her eyes 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


257 


laughing into Beth’s with a look half maternal, half a 
playmate’s. 

Beth caught her breath, her eyes widened in terror ; 
she glanced at Aunt Alida to discover whether this in- 
troduction was part of a play, too. She remembered 
that Frieda had said that titled ladies came from across 
the sea in winter and were entertained by her aunt 
and uncle, and Aunt Alida did not seem to her to be 
making believe that her guest was a noble lady. But it 
seemed quite impossible to Beth that a countess should 
be present in the flesh, outside the pages of romance. 

Lady Harrowdene bent her head respectfully and said: 
“Your majesty, I rejoice to see that you are bearing so 
well the weary months and years of your captivity. 
Though I am English, I am heart and soul your slave, 
in spite of the circumstances which force me to live in 
the land reigned over by Elizabeth.” 

“Why don’t you say something?” Dirk whispered 
with a vigorous nudge. He had great pride in Beth’s 
flow of antique-sounding phrases which she usually em- 
ployed in making believe. 

“ Are you really a — a countess ? ” Beth asked, star- 
ing wide-eyed at Lady Harrowdene when she was thus 
goaded to speak. 

Lady Harrowdene laughed delightedly. “ You funny 
little thing ! ” she cried. “ Is that what is the trouble? 
Shall we stop playing Queen Mary and her attendants 
and talk in our proper persons ? Thank you ; making 
believe is a bit hard to keep up long. I think my title 
is all right. Why do you question it ? My husband 


258 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTEE 


is Lord William Bellair, Earl of Harrowdene. Doesn’t 
that make me a countess, quite securely ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am. Yes, my lady. I don’t know even 
how to say yes to a countess ! I didn’t really believe 
there were countesses and earls, not fed I believed 
them, till this minute ! ” cried Beth in a burst of a sort 
of despair of meeting this occasion properly. 

Lady Harrowdene laughed so heartily that the tears 
sprang to her eyes. 

“ Why do you care so much about them, my dear ? 
Aren’t you a true little American republican, believing — 
what is it that your Declaration of Independence says ? 
That all men are created equal ? Why, then, do you 
care about a title ? ” cried this merry countess when 
she recovered her breath. 

“ It’s not that,” Beth tried bravely to explain. “ It’s 
not the way the Declaration meant, I care. It’s — it’s 
so strange, because you read about earls and countesses 
in books and they always seem so — interesting. Almost 
like fairies, only nicer, I think. And it doesn’t seem 
as though they could be just going around now. Are 
your children earls and countesses ? ” 

“ My oldest boy wiU be Harrowdene some day. My 
girl— she’s not as old as you are — is the Honorable 
Constantia Bellair, because her father is an earl. We 
call her Con, Connie, usually, quite as you are called 
Beth. It really doesn’t matter about these things as 
much as you fancy, my dear. I see, though, that it is 
the romance of it that appeals to you, not the worldly 
side of noble birth. But I assure you we are not par- 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


259 


ticularly romantic, though I fancy you’d find plenty to 
enthrall your dreaming little soul in the fine old Eliza- 
bethan house at Harrowdene. One day you must see 
it, when your aunt comes over to return my visit of to- 
day and brings your lovely cousins, as she has promised 
to do. They used to call me Honorable Pat, Beth, be- 
fore I was married, because my father was also an earl. 
Now they call me Lady Pat, and my husband makes 
stupid jokes on my name, all about his Pat-ent wife ; 
what a frightful wound he got when my father gave 
him a Pat — and all that sort of thing, don’t you know ? 
But this is when we are quite in private and it doesn’t 
matter ! I only mention it to show you that an earl is 
quite merely a mere man ! By the way, my dear, an 
ancestor of mine, on my mother’s side, was one of the 
noblemen selected to witness the execution of poor 
Mary Stuart. Pray don’t set that down against me ; 
I’m sure I should have tried to rescue her had I been 
in his place ! ” 

Lady Harrowdene had talked on, evidently to set Beth 
at her ease, and to accustom her to the shock of meeting 
English historical romances clothed in fiesh, which she 
saw was much the way in which Beth regarded her. 

The little girl had listened, enthralled. Lady Har- 
rowdene’s beautiful voice, her inflections, so different 
from those she had always heard, made of the tongue 
they both spoke something so unlike its old self, so at- 
tractively unlike it, that Beth could have listened for- 
ever, even had not what Lady Harrowdene said been so 
interesting. 


260 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTEE 


“ Don’t be too disappointed, dear, that I am just an 
every-day twentieth century woman and not a splendid 
creature of Queen Elizabeth’s court ! ” Lady Patricia 
leaned toward Beth with the motherly look in her eyes, 
and Beth went over to her at once. 

“ The daughter of a thousand earls, belted earls ! ” 
she murmured. 

Aunt Alida and Lady Patricia dissolved in merriment 
at this, and Lady Patricia hugged Beth vehemently. 

“ You dear, funny little creature ! ” she cried. “ I 
give you my word that I never had a thousand earls for 
a father in my life 1 And I’m quite sure my father 
never wore a belt, except when he was playing tennis. 
If it gives you satisfaction to think of me as a countess, 
pray keep it well in mind. But if it is going to raise a 
barrier against our intimacy, then please consider me 
only as the mother of five little English people, Herbert, 
Richard, Constantia, Gilbert, and my rosy, jolly baby 
James William. I had to keep up the family names 
and poor Jamie took both his grandfather’s and his 
father’s ! You would love Jamie, Beth. He is nearly 
two years old. While I am away from him he tugs 
at my heart-strings like a particularly strong Atlantic 
cable. Dirk, dear, Beth and I are doing all the talking ! 
You were but a little lad when I was last over ; I re- 
member you, but you will not remember me.” 

“Yes, I do now. Lady Harrowdene,” said Dirk. 
“ You had the greatest little terrier I ever saw.” 

“I had, truly,” said Lady Harrowdene, greatly 
pleased. “ He’s still the greatest little dog in England, 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


261 


The children will not allow him to leave them ; he’s 
waiting my return with the rest of my family. You 
are all going to see him when you go over. He will do 
tricks for you, fall over dead, stand erect and salute at 
‘ God save the king,’ join in the chorus with barks when 
he’s bidden — he has really quite a repertory of accom- 
plishments ! I shall be glad to introduce you to Briton 
when you come to visit me, and that must not be later 
than the summer after next. Now then, Alida, are 
you ever going to tell them ? If you don’t I shall.” 

“ Do you think it’s fair to blame me for delay, Pat, 
dear ? There has been no lull in the conversation ! ” 
returned Aunt Alida. 

Beth noticed with surprise this intimate use of first 
names ; she wondered when Aunt Alida had come to 
know so well this lady, separated from her by the width 
of the Atlantic. 

“ Beth, you are to be given a birthday party ! It 
must also be a Valentine party, as you are a Valentine 
child. I had planned to celebrate you, but Lady Har- 
rowdene has a Valentine-birthday idea that puts mine 

quite in the shade! It will Oh, Lady Pat, I 

believe I wiU not tell her about it, after all ! It is a 
week distant. We’ll let Beth get gray and ugly puz- 
zling over it ; we won’t tell her another syllable than 
that she is to have a party ! ” Aunt Alida stopped her- 
self short and laughed at Beth with her flashing dark 
eyes. 

Beth did not grow gray, nor did she seem to those 
that loved her in the least likelihood of becoming ugly 


262 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


as the . week before her birthday crawled past. But 
she gave a great deal of thought to the celebration of 
the day. So did Natalie and Alys; Dirk professed 
indifference to all parties, but secretly he specu- 
lated, too, on what new form this celebration could 
take. Mrs. Cortlandt would not give either of her 
own children the least hint about it, for fear Beth 
should hear it; they all rightly thought that Mrs. 
Cortlandt was having a fine time keeping the mystery 
shrouded. 

St. Valentine’s day came at last. Early in the after- 
noon Frieda attired Beth in the strangest costume ! 
Beth did not know whether to like it or not ; she cer- 
tainly had the gravest doubt of its suitability. Yet 
Aunt Alida always knew, not merely what was pretty, 
but what was appropriate. This gown was blue, light 
blue in its upper part, dark blue below, and it had vel- 
vet stripes of yellow bordering its tunic and rings of 
yellow velvet on the skirt. The material was the 
gauziest silk imaginable ; everything about the frock 
was exquisite, but the effect altogether was, as Beth 
doubtfully told herself, “ queer.” However, she could 
not voice her doubt and in a moment Frieda had 
slipped over the whole costume a straight, sheathing 
sort of a dull yellow silken garment, like a scant rain- 
coat. It had a yellow silk hood which Frieda drew 
forward over Beth’s hair, carefully arranging it so that 
the whalebones in it lay so that they would keep the 
hood from disarranging her hair. 

“For pity’s sake, Frieda, what is it ? It makes me 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


263 


look like a big chrysalis ! ” cried Beth, surveying her 
sleek gray figure in the glass with disfavor. 

Frieda clapped her hands. “ Isn’t that fine, Miss 
Beth ! ” she cried. “ Just what it’s meant to look like ! 
And to think you knew it at once ! ” 

“ Well, my goodness ! I don’t want to be a chrys- 
alis ! ” cried Beth. Then she remembered and felt 
ashamed. “But Aunt Alida knows,” she added loy- 
ally. “ Anyhow, I should think she’d made you look 
nice often enough, Beth Bristead, for you to wear 
what she wanted you to ! Maybe Aunt Alida wants 
me to be a chrysalis to eat salad ! Am I ready, 
Frieda ? ” 

“ Yes, Miss Beth, you are. I’m to go with you to 
help you and your cousins,” said Frieda, making sure 
that her black gown and white linen cap and apron 
were as they should be. 

“ Going with us ? Are we going somewhere, 
Frieda ? ” cried Beth. 

But Frieda put her finger on her lip and shook her 
head to say that she must not tell Beth anything, even 
at this late hour, and, taking her coat, Frieda led the 
way to the elevator and put Beth in. 

Down-stairs Beth found three other figures swathed 
like herself in scant dull yellow silk — Natalie, Alys 
and Dirk. She stared, then began to take a more hope- 
ful view of the queer costume. If there were so many 
copies of it they must have some fine purpose. 

“ All ready ? ” asked Aunt Alida, hastening out from 
the reception room where she had waited for her fiock. 


264 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


Beth saw that she was clad in beauty unconcealed, so 
the cocoon-like sheath was not for her. 

“ Leon is at the door, children ! ” cried Aunt Alida, 
as always, refreshingly excited and happy in the pros- 
pect of pleasure for the children. 

She led the way to the car, put the three girls in the 
back seat, took Dirk with her in the middle seats, 
Frieda took her place beside Leon and they were off. 

They drove circuitously, from street to street, from 
Fifth Avenue to Madison Avenue, in the blocks which 
lay between, and everywhere they were joined by other 
cars, each containing one or more of the mysterious 
silk-clad figures, wearing exactly the same long, dull 
silk enveloping coats which Beth and her cousins wore. 
These cars fell in line with the Cortlandt car till they 
had a lengthy procession of various cars, all carrying 
human chrysalides. Everybody they passed stared, 
but that did not matter. Most people smiled at the 
procession, recognizing it as a children’s party of some 
sort. 

The line of motors stopped in turn under the porte- 
cochere of one of the most splendid hotels in the city 
and each discharged its burden of guests and maids. 
The party was met by a preternaturally tall person in 
quiet livery who said : 

“ Lady Harrowdene’s party ? Thank you, madam. 
This way if you please,” and conducted Mrs. Cortlandt 
and all her dull silken followers to elevators which 
took them up to the second floor, where they were led 
by the tall man who looked, Natalie whispered, ‘‘ like 


OHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


265 


the Washington monument,” to a room opening out 
of a ballroom in which the children heard violins 
tuning. 

Her ladyship is here, Mrs. Cortlandt,” said the tall 
man throwing open the door. Then he bowed low and 
withdrew. 

Lady Harrowdene came rapidly forward to meet 
them. “ So glad you are come at last ! ” she said. 
“ Oh, no, you are not late, Alida, but I was a bit early 
and waiting was tedious. How beautifully you have 
carried out the idea ! Aren’t they charming, the 
chrysalis-girls ? Please present me to my— and your 
— guests.” 

One by one Mrs. Cortlandt introduced the young 
people, girls and boys, to Lady Harrowdene. Beth 
thus knew for the first time who were invited to her 
birthday party ; she found that they were the Tanagers 
and Bluebirds and the other young people whom she 
had met, her cousins’ friends. This did not lessen her 
shyness. Beth had never made the least progress in 
acquaintanceship outside her family that winter, and 
now the fear of what might be required of her at a 
party given in her honor oppressed her. 

Aunt Alida must have known this for she announced : 

“ This is Beth’s party, but she is as much in the dark 
in regard to it as any of you. Lady Harrowdene has 
surprises for you all, so you are to consider her as your 
hostess and Beth as a sort of Appendix Hostess. We 
are all under Lad}^ Harrowdene’s orders.” 

“ Yery well, then,” began Lady Harrowdene, accept- 


266 


BETH'S WONDER- WINTEE 


ing her responsibility ; “ you must know that you are 
each to consider yourself a chrysalis, if you please! 
You did not know why you were bidden wear that 
yellow silk covering, but this is the reason : you are 
each a chrysalis. Now, we are to repair to the danc- 
ing room, each chrysalis when it — ‘ it ’ is surely the 
correct word for a chrysalis I — when it is ready." 

She led the way, a dazzling apparition in white and 
green. Beth saw with unspeakable joy that she wore 
on her hair something that must have been a coronet ! 
What rapture it gave her to know that her hostess, 
Beth Bristead’s hostess at her birthday party, rightfully 
wore a countess’s coronet 1 

“ ‘ Kind hearts are more than coronets 
And simple faith than Norman blood,' " 

she said to her own great dismay, and not because that 
was what she was thinking, but because Lady Harrow- 
dene’s coronet put the words on her tongue. She was 
horrified when a girl at her elbow heard her quotation 
and laughed. 

The ballroom was beautiful with flowers, the or- 
chestra was playing irresistible dance music as the 
chrysalides slid, in their quiet dull color, into the 
brilliant light. The daylight was excluded by heavy 
screens and the electric candles turned the February 
afternoon into night. 

In a moment every chrysalis was dancing and they 
danced for an hour. Then the music died away into 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


267 


the faintest echo and the chrysalides stopped dancing, 
wondering what was to happen. 

A curtain concealing a stage at the end of the long 
room was withdrawn by invisible hands and upon this 
stage flitted fairy figures, so beautiful, so fairylike, as 
they half danced, half flew on the invisible wires across 
the stage, that Beth caught her breath in delight, so 
keen that it overwhelmed her. 

The fairies — in reality they were professional dancers 
hired by Lady Harrowdene — began a dance that seemed 
to call upon nature to awaken; it was a Dance of 
Spring. With exquisite threadings of wind-blown 
mazes they flitted, calling, hand to lips. Then they 
poised, listening, one hand on hip, one at the ear, as 
the dancers leaned forward to hear if their summons 
were heeded. Then they bent their graceful bodies 
low to earth, lightly touching the ground. Then they 
sprang up with fawn-like leaps, triumphing, the flowers 
which they had wakened and culled waving in their 
hands above their heads. And finally they came to 
the front of the stage, lips parted as if calling, waving 
their arms, extending their hands, fluttering, waiting 
expectant, never still, yet waiting. 

Natalie had been coached by Lady Harrowdene 
what to do. She stood at the head of a long double 
row of chrysalides. At a signal from her each chrysalis 
fell off and the boys and girls appeared in gorgeous 
colors. At last Beth understood her gown of blues 
with the yellow velvet stripes ! She was a butterfly, 
they were each a butterfly, broken out of a chrysalis. 


268 


BETH’S WONDEE-WIKTEE 


Natalie in gold, Alys in green, Dirk in browns and 
golds, all the young guests in color combinations in- 
credibly beautiful. 

Natalie began to swing in time with the slow danc- 
ing on the stage; the entire line of newly -emerged 
butterflies swung with her and followed her as she 
broke into a dance. She led them around the room, 
dancing as only Natalie could dance, improvising her 
steps and motions. The professional dancers came 
down and danced with the children till, finally, the line 
broke up into pairs and, all over the room, the butterflies 
were waltzing, a sight so beautiful that, as Mrs. Cort- 
landt said, it was the greatest pity that all the world 
could not be there to see. 

Then, as if Lady Harrow dene were in command of 
genii, the servants of the hotel slipped into the room 
and began to serve refreshments. Aunt Alida had 
attended to the selection of these, as more versed in 
what these American birthday guests would prefer 
than Lady Harrowdene was. 

All the edibles were valentines ! Heart-shaped sand- 
wiches, as well as cakes ; salads served in lacy paper, 
like old-fashioned valentines ; pates also lace-trimmed 
and heart-decorated ; fancy ices in valentine forms ; 
sweets in pairs of love birds ; chocolate in heart cups, 
its whipped cream carrying out the old-fashioned valen- 
tine effect of lace paper. 

Somehow Beth found herself at the head of the 
central one of the small tables which Lady Harrow- 
dene’s genii had swiftly and noiselessly set in place and 


CHEYSALIS AND THE COUNTESS 


269 


covered with good things. To her table they bore a 
huge valentine cake, decorated with all sorts of icing 
designs in the valentine style, ringed around with eleven 
candles burning steadily. Beth had to rise and cut the 
cake. She was so embarrassed that she could only 
make the first incision, from which custom forbade her 
being excused. Aunt Alida rescued her after that and 
cut the birthday cake into slices herself. 

“ You are to sit still, Beth, please,” Lady Harrow- 
dene said, signaling to the servants when the supper 
was over. 

Just as swiftly and silently as they had brought 
them, the men bore the tables away, all but the centre 
one on which Beth’s birthday cake stood and at which 
Beth herself was left, a solitary island entirely sur- 
rounded by guests and shyness. 

The orchestra, which had been playing beautiful soft 
music during the supper, played a waltz. The butter- 
flies once more spread their wings, figuratively speak- 
ing, and danced. As they whirled around and past 
Beth each butterfly dropped into the lap of this one 
little motionless butterfly a package, tied with gay 
ribbons, decked with birthday cards and flowers, till 
the small table was heaped and the small recipient was 
nearly overcome. 

“ ‘ Please don’t open till Christmas,’ not till you get 
home at any rate ! ” cried Alys. “ Come and dance, 
Bethie, for it will soon be over and this music is 
heavenly.” 

It was ; 'Beth thought so. Aunt Kebecca would 


270 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


have been surprised if she could have seen her little 
grandniece dancing, for Beth had acquired the accom- 
plishment only this winter and was fond of it with all 
her musical heart. 

“ The clock strikes twelve, Cinderella ! ” warned 
Lady Harrowdene. “ Dear guests, my party is over. 
I’m sorry and I hope you are.” 

“ It was the nicest party we ever had. Lady Harrow- 
dene,” declared one of the Tanager girls. “If you 
have parties like this in England I’m going to live 
there as soon as I come of age.” 

Beth came home excited, tired, but in a dream of 
bliss. The party had seemed like a dream, but the 
proof of its reality was the snow of white packages 
completely covering the floor of the tonneau of the 
car. 

“Well, sir,” exclaimed Dirk, speaking out of a long 
silence on the way home, “ she’s a countess that 
counts ! ” 

And Natalie, Alys and Beth enthusiastically agreed. 


CHAPTER XYI 


THE SHKOVE NIGHT MASQUE 
HALL you be ready to meet Shakespeare when 



vj he comes here on Tuesday night, Beth ? ” asked 
Mr. Cortlandt unexpectedly, emerging from behind his 
morning paper. “It is the custom of some people to 
‘ get up ’ handy quotations from an author before meet- 
ing him, to have them ready to use ; it’s supposed to 
please him, but all real authors hate it. If you like 
I’ll rehearse the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet 
and we’ll act it for Mr. Shakespeare when he comes.” 

Beth smiled in a puzzled way, looking inquiringly at 
her uncle. She knew there was some clue to the mean- 
ing of his nonsense, but she lacked it. 

“ I saw an allusion to our ball in the paper, that’s 
what reminded me,” Mr. Cortlandt went on. “ You 
look blank, Beth. Is it possible you haven’t heard of 
the ball?” 

“ Mama has been so busy about it we haven’t seen 
her much lately, and Natalie and I never thought to 
tell Beth, because we’re not in it anyway, so it doesn’t 
matter,” said Alys. 

“Oh, dear me, it matters a lot!” exclaimed her 
father. “ Where’s your family pride, my dear ? The 


271 


272 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


Cortlandt ball is going down in the history of New 
York! And I’m not sure you mayn’t see it. I think 
I’ll put in a plea to the hostess to make an exception 
to the rule and let you young people sit up that night 
to see the pageant. It will be worth looking at and 
one night won’t ruin your budding beauty ! I should 
like to have Beth see it. We’ll hide you in the gallery, 
but we’ll costume you first, so if you are discovered 
you’ll be in the picture.” 

“What is it, Uncle Jim?” asked Beth, as Natalie 
and Alys clapped their hands and softly cheered this 
decision. 

“ Fancy one’s own niece not knowing what I’m talk- 
ing about when the daily papers are eagerly discussing 
‘ Mr. and Mrs. James Cortlandt’s Elizabethan ball ! ’ ” 
cried Uncle Jim. “ That’s what it is, Bethie — an Eliza- 
bethan Ball. It is to be a masked ball of the period 
when Bess of England reigned, and Will Shakespeare 
was writing and acting at the Globe Theatre in London, 
and Sir Walter Ealeigh was spreading his cloak for the 
queen to pass over the mud dry shod while, at the same 
time, he was trying to spread her realm over the sea 
into our own Virginia. There’s a royal prince visiting 
the United States just now, little niece, whom your 
aunt and I have met several times ; we are giving the 
ball in his honor. It will be rather magnificent, we 
hope. It is to be a Shrovetide Masque— now doesn’t 
that sound Elizabethan ? Next Tuesday is the day — 
Shrove Tuesday. There will be court dancing, ga- 
vottes, minuets, those formal old dances which so well 


THE SHEOVE NIGHT MASQUE 


273 


suit the brocades and farthingales of that period, and 
there’ll be a play acted without scenery, right on the 
ballroom floor among the guests, just as plays were 
given in Shakespeare’s day. At midnight we unmask 
and sup, and end with modern dancing. You children 
shall see it ; I want you to.” 

Beth listened, bewildered, to this amazing explana- 
tion in which a real, live Koyal Prince was mingled 
with ghosts of historical splendor. 

“ Do you think Aunt Alida will care ? ” she gasped, 
hardly knowing what she said. 

“ If you sit up to see the ball ? Not she, not after a 
moment. She’ll never be hard-hearted enough to deny 
us,” declared Uncle Jim, identifying his desire with 
Beth’s in the most satisfactory way. 

Aunt Alida did demur for just about the moment 
which Uncle Jim had allowed for her to hesitate, when 
he announced his decision to have the children see the 
ball which all New York was discussing. But she 
yielded her objections to breaking through her rule of 
“early to bed and early to rise” for her young folk, 
and consented to let them be hidden in the gallery at 
the end of the great ballroom to see the spectacle which 
would be a lifelong memory of beauty to them. 

This meant hurriedly planned costumes for the four. 
The ball guests would be sure to invade the ballroom 
galleries and Aunt Alida did not intend to allow the 
smallest blemish in the harmony of this great ball. 
When the children were discovered, as they would be, 
looking on, they must be found in the costume of the 


274 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


period of the ball, not in their own twentieth century 
persons and frocks. 

Poor Aunt Alida was dismayed at this additional 
task unexpectedly fallen upon her, but Miss Deland 
came to her rescue. 

“Let me attend to the costumes, dear Mrs. Cort- 
landt,” she said. “I’m sure I can design them well 
enough — to be hidden away ! ” 

Mrs. Cortlandt laughed, looking relieved. “You 
could choose costumes quite pretty enough to put in 
the middle of the strongest limelight, Miss Deland,” 
she said. “ Lessons have been so neglected this winter 
by our gadabout Beth that you hardly have had her in 
the schoolroom enough to know what she looks like ! 
But you can guess what will be becoming to her ! ” 

“ I know Bethie’s sunny face better than you think I 
do, and I know how well she loves English history,” 
said Miss Deland with a smile for Beth that made Beth 
throw her arms around this lovable teacher and give 
her one of her impetuous hugs. 

“Miss Deland and I are very well acquainted, be- 
cause I love her dearly. Aunt Alida,” she said. “ And 
she teaches me a great deal in a few days. I’ve learned 
different things from the ones I learn in school at home, 
but Miss Deland makes me know so much in an hour 
that you needn’t think I’ve lost this winter — studying, 
I mean.” 

“To be truthful, I’m not seriously worried about it, 
Bethie,” laughed Aunt Alida. “ And it surely ought 
to be a good way to become well acquainted with a 


THE SHEOVE NIGHT MASQUE 


275 


person to love her dearly ! Then I’ll leave it to you, • 
Miss Deland, to turn the quartette into subjects of 
Queen Elizabeth, and you really don’t know how much 
I appreciate your undertaking it for me.” 

“We must have a solemn consultation, girls and 
boy ! ” said Miss Deland, as Aunt Alida hurried away. 
“Your gowns must be simple. We can have them 
made at home. We’ll get a sempstress in and call 
upon Anna Mary and Frieda to help ; I can sew, too.” 

“ If only we could get Miss Tappan ! She’s the 
dressmaker at home,” said Beth. “ She’s really quick, 
though she looks like some one who would be dread- 
fully slow. She goes out by the day ; she charges only 
a dollar a day to old customers, like Aunt Eebecca. She 
mightn’t be able to make Elizabethan dresses, though.” 
Beth looked doubtful and somewhat troubled. 

“ It doesn’t matter, dear, does it ? As long as we 
can’t get Miss Tappan,” suggested Miss Deland. “ The 
first thing is to decide on the colors for each of you and 
then to fly off to the shops to find materials suitable for 
our purpose.” 

“ Please, Miss Deland, I think the very first thing of 
all is to decide what we are to be,” said Beth decidedly. 

“ Oh, that’s settled now,” said Miss Deland. “ You 
are to be young people of Queen Elizabeth’s time, 
probably children of some of her courtiers. It won’t 
be necessary to decide which ones ; you will be smuggled 
away in a corner of the gallery.” 

“ Oh, indeed it is necessary ! ” implored Beth. “ I 
want to know just exactly who I am, so I can be part 


276 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


of it. You see, you can’t half see a thing right if you 
are part of it and don’t know what part it is. Mayn’t 
we decide that first, Miss Deland ? ” 

“ I’m sure I don’t care what I am ; we’re only going 
to look on,” said Alys, puzzled by Beth’s absorbing in- 
terest in imaginative things, as she always was. 

“ Well, I want to look on right,” persisted Beth. 

“ I know ! You shall be Judith Shakespeare, Beth ! ” 
cried Miss Deland, with an inspiration. “ And Dirk 
shall be Hamnet, ‘Will Shakespeare’s little lad!’ 
Natalie shall be Susanna, Shakespeare’s oldest child, 
while Alys — well, we will make Alys the Lady Alys 
Dudley, a relative of the Earl of Leicester, the favorite 
of the queen, and pretend she is entertaining Shake- 
speare’s young folk during their visit to London. Will 
that please you, Beth dear ? ” 

“ I’ll love it,” declared Beth briefly, her face il- 
lumined. Miss Deland saw that in an instant she had 
assumed her role and was become the dutiful, proud 
daughter of the greatest of poets. 

The mere detail of color and design for her costume 
Beth passed over lightly, without much interest in it. 
Not so Natalie and Alys ; even though they were to be 
concealed from sight they cared a great deal to have 
their costumes suit them. 

Yellow for Alys, with her blonde hair ; blue for Beth 
and crimson for Natalie and wine-colored velvet for 
Dirk were settled upon. Miss Deland bore the girls off 
in the Cortland t car to do the shopping this entailed. 

For four days scissors, needles and sewing-machine 


THE SHROVE NIGHT MASQUE 277 

gleamed and buzzed. Miss Deland designed and cut 
out, Anna Mary and Frieda sewed and Frieda’s mother 
was fetched in to help, a competent German woman 
whose needle worked fast and skilfully. 

Not for nothing had Aunt Rebecca insisted upon 
Beth’s daily “ stint ” of sewing, in the old-fashioned 
way, bringing up a girl early to use her needle well. 
Beth now came out strong in her hated accomplishment 
and helped effectually in the hurried work under way. 
Neither Natalie nor Alys could sew well enough to 
count in real work. 

“ It’s a fine thing, so it is, to know how to sew, Miss 
Natalie,” said Anna Mary, biting off her thread, 
though she would not permit one of the girls thus to 
risk breaking the enamel of a tooth. “ Sure, if you 
know how it doesn’t get in the way of buyin’ your 
clothes, nor of hirin’ some one else to sew for you. 
But when you lose your money, or happen to be where 
there’s no buyin’, nor hirin’, it gets sore in your way not 
to know how to put a garmient together, nor the top 
from the bottom of an unmade sleeve, no, nor a hawk 
from handsewin’, as the sayin’ is.” 

“ ‘ A hawk from a handsaw,’ ” murmured Miss Deland 
ill spite of herself, much amused, yet knowing better 
than to attempt to correct Anna Mary. ‘‘That’s 
Shakespeare, Anna Mary ! You certainly sew wonder- 
fully well and wonderfully fast ! I don’t know how we 
ever should have had the costumes done in time, but 
for you,” she added hastily, seeing Anna Mary’s brow 
darken. 


278 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


“ It would be a poor creature that was lady’s maid as 
many years as I’ve been and couldn’t sew, Miss Deland,” 
said Anna Mary, mollified, but accepting the compli- 
ment as her just due. 

When the costumes were finished they were so 
charming that Aunt Alida clapped her hands at the 
sight of the four figures arrayed in them, declaring 
that it was a pity to hide such effects in the gallery. 
They surprisingly brought out the characteristics of 
each wearer. Natalie looked quite grown up in her 
stiff gown, a magnificent court lady, so handsome that 
jealous Queen Elizabeth would never have suffered her 
at her court. Alys looked dignified and impressive, but 
Beth looked like what she was, a rosy cheeked little girl 
masquerading, and Dirk might well have passed for 
what he represented, the one little son whom Shake- 
speare loved and lost. 

Shrove Tuesday night came, a warm night for the 
season. It would have been the children’s privilege to 
have seen Mrs. Cortlandt dress, but Beth refused to go, 
wishing to keep the coming wonders of the night and 
the illusion of Elizabeth’s court to burst upon her in 
undivided glory, its illusion perfect. She would not 
risk seeing one of the maskers transformed from Aunt 
Alida into an Elizabethan lady. Since Beth would not 
look at their mother till she appeared in the ballroom, 
the others would not either. 

All four slipped down into the vast ballroom early. 
The room was groined and arched, with Corinthian col- 
umns supporting its galleries. It suggested a Greek 


THE SHEOVE NIGHT MASQUE 


279 


temple, but a temple devoted to the gods of youth and 
joy. Its white and gold was hung with countless lights, 
wreathed, grouped, scattered in curves and singly like 
electric blossoms in a hanging garden. No plants broke 
the white lines of the columns and arches, but garlands 
of unbelievable orchids fell carelessly from the balco- 
nies, and chains of Killarney roses and ferns stretched 
from point to point, filling the air with sweetness. The 
orchestra was placed behind the diaphanous golden 
screen built for it. It was a screen of white agate, cut 
into lace-like fragility in designs of ferns and blossoms, 
like point lace ; the light shone through the agate with a 
delicate warmth that made the flowers alive, as if they 
really were the white jasmine they represented, bloom- 
ing in the moonlight. Framing the screen was a golden 
fantasy of musical instruments, wrought in metal. 

“ It looks the way music sounds ! ” cried Beth raptur- 
ously, seeing the golden screen with its agate carving 
for the first time illuminated. 

At nine o’clock the orchestra began playing softly 
behind its screen. Presently a fanfare of trumpets 
sounded beyond the ballroom, the doors were thrown 
open, the orchestra burst into splendid music, which 
Beth did not know was one of the Liszt Hungarian 
rhapsodies, and a procession began to enter. 

First came solemn men in a queer uniform, with 
staves ; these were not masked. They represented the 
beef-eaters, the yeomen of the Eoyal Guard, who at- 
tended upon the sovereign at state banquets. 

Those are just men, hired,” said Dirk, craning his 


280 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTER 


neck eagerly to see the pageant. ‘‘Jolly! If there 
isn’t Tim marching in with them 1 Daddy got him in 
as a beef -eater ! Wait till I get at him to-morrow 1 ” 

Next came Mr. Cortlandt, walking alone. He too, 
being the host, was unmasked. 

“ I never knew father was such a peach ! ” cried Alys, 
moved beyond herself by the spectacle of her father 
in white satin, embroidered in blues and golds, a blue 
velvet cloak swinging from one shoulder, a plumed hat 
carried jauntily under his left arm. Jewels blazed from 
his hands and throat, the clasp of his cloak, his knee 
and shoe buckles ; the collar of an order hung around 
his neck and a blazing star of diamonds fell from it 
upon his chest. 

“ He’s just as handsome as he can be ! ” cried Beth. 
“ All the time, I mean, but now he’s handsomer than 
he can be — I mean he doesn’t seem possible ! ” She 
was so excited that Natalie caught her by the arm. 

“I’m afraid you’ll jump over the rail,” Natalie 
laughed, but her own eyes were flashing and she 
looked as though she, too, found the pageant almost 
too much for her. 

Behind Mr. Cortlandt came his guests in pairs, lords 
and ladies of the great and magnificent time of English 
Elizabeth. Such colors, such brocades and satins, vel- 
vets, laces, feathers, fans, shoes, above all such ropes 
and suns of jewels Beth had never believed could exist, 
outside the stories of Eastern magic. 

The five hundred guests came slowly on, stepping to 
the time of a minuet which the orchestra was now play- 


THE SHROVE NIGHT MASQUE 281 

ing. They were all masked and the men vied with the 
women in gorgeousness of raiment and jewels. Each 
man held the left hand of his partner in the entering 
march high in the air, as in a minuet ; with the other 
hand he clasped his feathered, jeweled hat and the 
women with their right hand waved their fans or toyed 
with chains of jewels, making them flash anew as they 
fingered them. 

Then came four especially graceful dames, walking 
backward. 

Natalie pointed out one to Beth. “That’s mama. 
No one else on earth could walk backward like that ! 
See how graceful she is ; best of them all ! ” Natalie’s 
voice was excited; it thrilled with proud admiration 
of her exquisite mother. 

Beth arose to see better. Though she was masked 
Beth felt as sure as Natalie was that the lady in cloth 
of gold, with a diamond plume in her hair and dia- 
monds radiating everywhere from her splendid costume, 
was Aunt Alida. 

“ She is Mary Fitton ; she told me, but she said I wasn’t 
to tell any one till to-night,” announced Dirk proudly. 

“ Who is Mary Fitton ? ” asked Alys. 

“I know; Miss Deland and I read about her last 
week,” cried Beth. “ She was a lady-in-waiting to 
Queen Elizabeth, and Shakespeare wrote his sonnets to 
her — maybe he did ; they aren’t sure. Oh, look, look ! 
There is the queen! That’s why they are walking 
backward. She isn’t masked. Oh, doesn’t she look 
for all the world like Queen Elizabeth ? ” 


282 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


One of Aunt Alida’s friends represented the queen. 
She had the requisite long, slender face and the glow- 
ing red hair. Taking the part of the queen she required 
no mask, and indeed she was quite enough burdened 
without it. Her dress looked as if it were made of a 
metal ; she had the great head-dress, the ruff, the heavy 
sleeves, the jewels and large feather fan of the portrait 
of the queen which Elizabeth gave to Sir Henry Sidney. 

Behind this Shrove IS’ight Queen Elizabeth came four 
more ladies-in-waiting, and then the rest of the guests 
in pairs, as before. The procession ended with un- 
masked beef-eaters, with their staves of office, like 
those who had begun it. 

The queen’s court made a circuit of the ballroom. 
Then the queen took the throne prepared for her at the 
upper end of the room, her ladies-in- waiting placed 
themselves behind her and Mr. Cortlandt stood at his 
sovereign’s right. Two by two the courtiers came to 
the foot of the throne, moving in a lovely slow dance, 
made a profound bow to the queen and were presented 
to her by that resplendent gentleman at the queen’s 
right who, as Beth tried hard to realize, was in actual 
life her familiar Uncle Jim. She heard the great names 
of history repeated as she leaned forward to see every 
detail of the beautiful moving picture, Essex, Leicester, 
Suffolk, Bacon, Ben Jonson, Kaleigh — Ealeigh, who, 
as he made his bow to the queen, threw his cloak 
before her with a sweep of the arm, recalling the day 
he had spread it as a carpet over the mud beneath her 
tread. 


THE SHEOYE NIGHT MASQUE 


283 


Beth knew it was a masquerade, a pageant, but she 
could not remember that these were not the personages 
whose names she heard, that she was a little girl in 
New York, not Judith Shakespeare in the London of 
three centuries gone. She did not want to remember 
it ; she loved her transformation. 

“ Oh, there’s Shakespeare ! He said William Shake- 
speare, Natalie ! Look, look ! ” cried Beth. 

“ Don’t act ‘ Much Ado About Nothing,’ if it is,” 
laughed Natalie, holding Beth down. 

A gentleman in black velvet, plainly clad, with a 
quill in the hand that carried also a simple hat, with a 
single black plume, was bowing before the queen at 
the moment. 

“ Might one ask why so young a lady is so passion- 
ately interested in the appearance of Shakespeare?” 
asked a voice close behind Beth. 

All four children faced about with a jump. They 
did not know that there was any one besides themselves 
in the gallery. Aunt Alida had arranged that her 
dowager friends, and those who had come to see, not to 
take part in the ball, were placed in the other galleries 
that, as far as possible, the children might be alone. 
The gentleman who had spoken had entered unnoticed 
by them. He had taken off his mask and showed 
a pleasant, frank, manly face. He wore white velvet 
with crimson slashing and a crimson cloak. Beth did 
not know him, and her glance at her cousins showed 
her that he was a stranger to them. 

“ Mercy, you frightened me ! ” cried Beth. ‘‘ Shake- 


284 


BETOS WONDEE-WINTEB 


speare ? Why, I forgot it wasn’t really him — he — for 
a minute. So of course it was exciting.” 

“ It is because it doesn’t seem to me to be ‘ of course ’ 
that I wondered,” said the newcomer smiling at Beth. 
“ I have known little girls who would have met Shake- 
speare in the flesh quite calmly. Might I ask if Ameri- 
can children read the poet ? ” 

“Why, you’re English, aren’t you?” cried Dirk, 
noting his accent. “ You’d better believe they don’t, 
not many of them. Beth’s death on old things and 
poets and all that.” 

“Are you Mr. Cortlandt’s children?” asked the 
stranger with a laugh that won Beth at once. 

“We are,” said Dirk, waving his hand toward his 
two sisters. “ Beth’s our cousin, Beth Bristead. Are 
you any relation to Lady Harrowdene ? ” 

“No,” said the young man. “Not related to 
her ; I suppose there is a connection between us.” 
His blue eyes twinkled and Beth wondered what the 
joke was which she suspected lurked somewhere in 
his remark. “You seem a nice quartette of young 
people. Beth Bristead ? Another Elizabeth, I sup- 
pose ? ” Beth saw him look at Natalie with admiration 
in his eyes, but he did not address her ; he probably 
thought her too old to dispense with the lack of an 
introduction. 

“ Yes, I’m Elizabeth, but not often,” said Beth. 
“We’re the Shakespeare family ourselves. Natalie is 
Susanna, Dirk is Hamnet, I’m Hamnet’s twin sister, 
Judith. We had to make believe Alys was Lady Alys 


THE SHROVE NIGHT MASQUE 285 

Dudley ; we’re visiting her. We don’t know there ever 
was a Lady Alys Dudley, but we needed her, so we 
made her up. I'm sure there must have been a 
countess, or something, who would have had Shake- 
speare’s children stay with her, aren’t you ? ” 

“Certain of it,” declared their new acquaintance 
with conviction. “ You seem a bit young to be at a 
ball, or you would be too young to be allowed at it in 
England. Miss Cortlandt — it is Miss Oortlandt ? ” he 
bowed deferentially to Natalie — “ may be in society, 

but the others ? ” He broke off, with a puzzled 

glance at childish Dirk and Beth. 

“We are not at the ball and I am only fifteen,” said 
Natalie with dignity. “ My father begged my mother 
to break the rule and let us see this ball from the gal- 
lery, so here we are. We are in costume, because mama 
was afraid if any one came up here it would be a discord 
in the picture — I mean a blot on it — if we were in just our 
present-day frocks. So our governess designed these 
costumes in a hurry. We aren’t going to use our as- 
sumed names ; we aren’t going to do anything but 
watch, but Beth couldn’t watch unless she had been 
fitted out with a name, so she’d feel part of it — like the 
right piece in a picture puzzle ! She’s a queer little 
Coz — aren’t you, Beth ? ” 

“ My word ! ” exclaimed the newcomer, with his 
hearty boyish laugh. “ I believe you ! But that’s the 
artistic impulse, to preserve the unities ! I’d wager 
you’ve been feeling yourself the little Shakespeare girl 
and that when you heard Will presented to Queen Bess 


286 


BETH’S WONDER-WINTER 


a few moments ago your first thought was : ‘ There’s 
father at last ! ’ ” 

“ Oh, how did you know ! ” cried Beth, embarrassed, 
yet pleased. 

The young man nodded. “ It’s not so long since I 
was a boy,” he said. “ When I go home I shall have 
to tell my young nieces and nephews that I found 
young Americans in New York caring more about our 
great poet than they do. When I was a small chap it 
was I who liked making-believe. My brothers and sis- 
ters, all but one sister, never were keen for it. I used 
to play at being Clive, or else Wellington.” 

“ There’s nothing half such fun ! ” cried Beth. “ Were 
you Wellington? I suppose a boy has to play he’s a 
soldier, and, of course, Waterloo is splendid. But I’m 
always Mary Queen of Scots, or something — ’most al- 
ways Queen Mary.” 

“ Dear me, don’t you ever make believe ‘ you’re an 
American hero — heroine?” asked the young man. 
“ Nothing could have persuaded me to be anything but 
an Englishman in my assumed parts. Like the gentle- 
man in Pinafore, don’t you know ? 

“ ^ In spite of all temptations 
To belong to other nations 
He was an Englishman.’ ” 

The young man sang these words in a low voice, 
mellow and pleasant in tone. 

“ Do you think I’m not patriotic ? ” asked Beth, look- 
ing troubled. “ Really and truly I am ! But you know 


THE SHEOVE NIGHT MASQUE 


287 


all those early days my ancestors were in England, so 
they belong to me just as much as they do to— to Lady 
Harrowdene ! Of course I had a grandfather, great- 
great-greatest — who fought at Bunker Hill, though.” 

“ That wasn’t on the British side, I suppose ? ” the 
young man inquired innocently. 

“ No, it wasn’t,” Beth admitted. “ But if the king 
had only understood he’d have seen we were good Eng- 
lishmen when we wanted our rights, my teacher 
says.” 

“ It’s good of you to be so generous to the memory 
of King George ! ” This time the young man laughed 
with his head thrown back in high glee. “ What makes 
you so keen for olden days, little Miss Beth ? ” 

“ They’re so interesting,” said Beth promptly. 
“ Knights and courts and princesses and princes ! Of 
course I love the United States best ; it is best, but we 
haven’t anything but men and women, or a general, or 
president. When you just say ‘ prince,’ doesn’t it sound 
splendid ? And Your Koyal Highness ! Oh, it is much 
nicer to play about princesses and princes ! ” 

“ Ah, here you are, prince ! ” cried a new voice at 
the back of the gallery. “ We’ve looked everywhere 
for you.” 

Natalie and Alys looked around. Three ladies, still 
masked, stood there. Beth sat absolutely still. 
“ Prince ! ” What did it mean ? But, yes ! Uncle 
Jim had said that there was a royal prince visiting 
New York in whose honor this ball was given. It 
must be he, this pleasant-faced, friendly young man to 


288 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


whom she had been talking freely of her plays, Bunker 
Hill— oh, what had she said ? Beth was so frightened 
that she could not remember. 

The prince had risen, looking like a schoolboy in 
April, caught going fishing instead of to school. 

“ I stole away,” he said. “ I wanted to see that 
wonderfully beautiful scene from above and as a whole, 
not as an actor in it. Don’t scold me, duchess ! I 
found companions, also watching the ball. Duchess, 
ladies — I do not know who the other two masks con- 
ceal — this is the Lady Alys Dudley, of our gracious 
sovereign. Queen Elizabeth’s court. This is Susanna 
Shakespeare and Hamnet. And this is Judith Shake- 
speare. Lady Alys and children of the poet, this is her 
ladyship, the Duchess of Eavenspur.” 

The children had risen for this introduction, Natalie, 
inspired, swept a deep courtesy and Alys followed suit. 
Beth tried to courtesy, but failed ; her knees refused to 
bend and come up again, keeping her balance. 

“ It’s pleasant to meet Will’s children ; we like well 
his plays at court,” said the duchess, performing her 
part nobly. “ Really, prince, I must beg you to return 
to the floor with us. Do you realize you are guest of 
honor to-night, that the ball is yours? Dancing is 
begun, the formal dances, you see. There is to be an 
Elizabethan play soon. Mrs. Cortlandt is wonderful ! 
Pray come, dear prince.” 

“You see, new friends of mine, what a price one 
has to pay for honors in this world,” said the prince, 
turning to the children with his bright, boyish smile. 


THE SHEOVE NIGHT MASQUE 289 

“Coming, duchess! Good-bye, Lady Alys, Miss 
Susanna, Master Hamnet. Good-bye, dear little 
Judith Shakespeare. I hope that we may meet again 
before I sail. In any case you shall hear from me.” 

He was gone. Beth gasped, Natalie and Alys began 
to chatter excitedly, but she was mute. A prince! 
First a countess, then a prince ! Surely this was a 
Wonder-Winter, a fairy tale, not merely illustrated, 
but lived ! 

Below on the floor moved the resplendent dances of 
olden times. At the upper end of the room, right 
among the spectators, just as Shakespeare’s own com- 
pany of players acted, without scenery of setting, 
sometimes in the courtyard of an inn, a short play was 
enacted while the dancing still went on. It was a 
kaleidoscope of color and movement and beauty unspeak- 
able. The other three young people forgot the prince 
in their interest in it, but Beth saw it all only vaguely. 
Her eyes followed an athletic young figure in white and 
crimson, and she kept saying over to herself : 

“ The king’s son ! The son of a king, and I know 
him ! ” 

At midnight a beautiful series of groups was formed 
all down the room. Queen Elizabeth stood before her 
throne ; there rang through the room the single voice 
of a silver trumpet, blown by a picturesque herald in 
silver and blue at the queen’s side. At its summons all 
the masks were dropped ; the guests stood revealed. 
Natalie and Alys grew wildly excited identifying those 
they knew. Beth found the duchess. She was re- 


290 


BETH’S WONDEE-WIOTEE 


lieved to find that she did not in the least resemble the 
duchess in “ Alice,” whose thick ugliness she uncon- 
sciously had in mind. This Duchess of Eavenspur was 
rather young and decidedly handsome, and Beth was 
grateful to her for being so. 

Then Miss Deland appeared and laid a hand on 
E’atalie’s shoulder, saying : 

“ Your mother asked me to tell you, dears, that at 
midnight all Cinderellas leave a ball and that it is now 
midnight. She wishes you to return to your ashes in 
the fireplace ; in other words to go to bed ! Supper is 
served the guests now ; after that there will be modern 
dancing until the ball is over. You have seen the best 
of it.” 

“We have seen more than that. Miss Deland,” said 
Beth solemnly and impressively. “We have seen and 
know a prince, the prince ! Do you think he ever will 
be king ? ” 

“ It isn’t likely,” smiled Miss Deland. “ There are 
three brothers older than he, but of course there’s no 
saying ! ” 

“Well, he’s the king’s son anyway,” declared Beth. 
“ He’s a real king’s son, and he talked about making 
believe and things just like — anybody ! ” 

“ There you are ! He is like anybody ! ” cried re- 
publican and unromantic Dirk. “ He’s a trump, some- 
thing like Bob Leonard ; not a bit nifty ; he’s all right.” 


CHAPTER XYII 


THE BIDE DOWN THE QUIET EOAD 

“ T T OW do you keep Easter at home, Beth ? I 

XrX mean how did you keep Easter in your old 
home, Beth ? We intend this to be home to you now 
and henceforth, you know.” Mrs. Cortlandt smiled at 
Beth over a book which she held, but which, plainly, 
did not engage her attention. 

“ Keep Easter ? ” echoed Beth searching her memory 

for the right answer. “ Why, I don’t know. We 

Sometimes the daffodils are out, sometimes they’re not. 
Janie and I color eggs ; just a few. Aunt Rebecca 
never likes me to use many. She thinks the colors and 
pictures hurt the eggs for eating, but they really don’t. 
When Easter comes in April hens are apt to be setting, 
so eggs are rather scarce. But coloring them doesn’t 
do a bit of harm, if only Aunt Rebecca thought so. 
She says it takes away her appetite to see red rabbits, 
and rabbits in coats, and blue stripes, and pink flowers, 
on her breakfast egg. I asked her to scramble it, or 
poach it, so she wouldn’t see the decorations. She 
thought I was saucy, but I didn’t once think of being. 
You can get lovely designs and colors in a package, 
eight colors and a hundred pictures for five cents, and 
you can make shaded colors and change around a lot 
291 


292 


BETH’S WONDEB-WINTEE 


with the eight sheets. I’d like to fix eggs for every- 
body, but it’s no use ! ” Beth shook her head over the 
unreasonableness of Aunt Kebecca. Janie and I do 
them for each other, though, and we fix up a straw- 
berry basket nest with tissue papers and leave it on 
each other’s back porch. A German girl showed us 
about it ; the Easter rabbit lays the eggs there, you see ! 
It’s quite nice. We don’t do anything else special, un- 
less it is to wear our straw hat for the first time, and 
open our collection boxes in Sunday-school. Oh, yes ! 
We all get a growing geranium slip, or some plant in 
Sunday-school that day.” 

“ Well, that doesn’t sound exciting ! ” laughed Alys. 

“ What a talker you are, Bethikins, when once you 
are set going ! ” Aunt Alida laughed too. “We should 
have gone into the country for Easter ; we usually do, 
but your Uncle Jim thought that you would like this 
Easter in town. We shall not be likely to spend the 
next one here. You will probably be in Virginia with 
us next Easter, at Old Point Comfort, or at the I^orth 
Carolina mountains, or the Jersey coast ; not in ISTew 
York, anyway. So your uncle wants you to see the 
bright 'New York Easter this year. I hope you realize 
what a personage you are, small Beth, changing all our 
habits in this way ! ” 

“ I — I think I feel sorry about it,” said Beth in a 
small voice. 

“ You needn’t, dear ; I shall enjoy it greatly,” said 
Mrs. Cortlandt hastily. “It doesn’t seem possible that 
the Shrove night ball is already five weeks past ! ” 


THE BIDE DOWN THE QUIET EOAD 293 


“ The prince hasn’t gone home, has he ? ” asked Beth. 

‘‘ No, but he sails this week,” said Aunt Alida. “We 
dined with him at Mrs. Huntley’s last night. He asked 
most kindly after my four young people and said that 
he meant to see you again before he sailed. But he is 
scarcely allowed to rest from being entertained and 
seeing the country, so I’m not sure you will see him. 
He came here purposely to look into some aspects of 
our industrial conditions and his final visits to institu- 
tions of reform are crowding upon him thick and fast.” 

“ He’s very nice, very,” said Beth with pensive 
emphasis. “ It’s rather sad to think that we can’t see 
him again after he gets to England. Even if you went 
there. Aunt Alida, you couldn’t see him as if he weren’t 
’way off in some palace, could you ? And I’m pretty 
sure he would like Trump. He looks and acts like a 
person who would love a pony like Trump. I wish he 
could come here and go to see him before he goes back 
and sits in the shadow of the throne.” 

Natalie fairly shrieked at this speech. “ The shadow 
of the throne ! Beth, for pity’s sake, what makes you 
say such queer, fearfully funny things ? ” she gasped. 
“ And who is going to sit in it, the prince or Trump ? ” 

Beth laughed. “ Maybe it might be Trump, if the 
prince saw him and fell in love with him. I suppose 
you couldn’t refuse a prince your pony and be polite. 
It’s called being in the shadow of the throne in books,” 
she added. 

“ You will see the prince when you go to England ; 
‘ the shadow of the throne ’ will lift long enough for 


294 


BETH’S WONDER- WIKTEE 


that. We shall go over when Natalie is twenty ; she 
will be presented at court then. But we’re likely to go 
before. The prince and his brothers and sisters rode 
ponies at your age ; they are on the retired list, enjoy- 
ing pasturage and comfort now, for the sake of past 
service. The prince is a famous rider ; you were right 
in thinking he would be interested in Trump. Just a 
moment, children ; I am called.” 

Aunt Alida shut her handkerchief into her book and 
went over to the telephone that stood on the small 
teakwood table near her couch ; they were gathered in 
Aunt Alida’s sitting-room. 

“Yes. Mrs. Cortlandt, yes. Oh ! No, I didn’t know 
when you spoke. We were that instant speaking of 
you, prince,” she said and the girls looked at one an- 
other and Beth leaned forward with sudden interest 
in her eyes. 

“ How exceedingly kind you are ! ” exclaimed Mrs. 
Cortlandt, after she had silently listened, with eyes 
and lips smiling, to the voice at the other end of the 
wire, which the children could not hear. “ Yes, they 
all ride. Certainly they may. Without any chaperon, 
no grown person ? Not even me ? I think you will 
be a more than sufficient chaperon ! May I send a 
groom, in case of trouble of any sort ? Thank you. 
At eleven ? They shall be ready. I will have their 
mounts here. Indeed I am grateful, prince, and I can 
assure you of a blissful quartette of young things when 
they are told of your invitation. Good-bye, prince. 
Once more my sincerest thanks.” 


THE EIDE DOWN THE QTJIET EOAD 295 


Aunt Alida rang off and turned to the three girls, 
her face alight with her great tidings. 

“ Wasn’t that a coincidence, dear lassies ? Could 
you guess who telephoned, with what message ? ” she 
demanded breathlessly. 

“ The prince wants us to ride with him ! ” cried 
IS'atalie, Alys and ' Beth, as if it were a carefully re- 
hearsed trio. 

“ Precisely that ! ” Aunt Alida clapped her hands, 
laughing as though the guess were a brilliant triumph. 
‘‘ At eleven to-morrow ! Hot a grown person with 
you, but the prince ! He says he wants it to be a 
youthful frolic, just as he rode with his sisters and 
brothers. So you are going. You must take him out 
on our Quiet Eoad, as we call it. I believe I will have 
a lunch put up, to be hung in a pannier over some one’s 
saddle ! I’m certain the prince would enjoy its flavor, 
eaten out-of-doors, informally. You will show him 
Trump, Bethie ! ” 

“Aunt Alida, I can make fudge rather splendidly. 
Do you think I might make some to take with us ? ” 
Beth asked anxiously. 

“ I’m not sure the cook would allow it, dear ; I cer- 
tainly would, but he is — formidable is a mild, safe 
word ! ” Aunt Alida said. 

“ Mrs. Hodgman has a gas stove in her rooms ; I saw 
it,” cried Beth. “ If you would let me make it. Aunt 
Alida, it would be fine to eat out under a tree, and 
when I went home, and made fudge for the girls, I’d 
say I was Fudge Maker to the Koyal Family — like 


296 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


the labels on English gelatines and needles and 
things ! ” 

“ Oh, Beth, you are a scream ! ” cried Alys. “ How 
you mix up ! I wouldn’t care to be like a label myself.” 

“ Beth’s meaning is clear,” laughed her aunt. “ Bless 
your heart, Bethikins, if you can win Mrs. Hodgman over, 
I’ve no objections to your making anything you like.” 

“ Mrs. Hodgman never has to be won over ; she is 
always ’way over when you ask her a favor,” said Beth, 
as she ran off to ask the housekeeper this favor. 

She ran into Dirk in the doorway. “You’ve got 
Hodgie’s measure, all right,” he remarked, hearing 
what Beth had just said. “ I was around seeing Ken 
Appleton’s new printing-press,” he added, replying to 
the inquiry in his mother’s eyes. “ Anything up ? ” 

Beth wheeled in the doorway, where she had lingered 
to hear what Dirk would say to the plan for the mor- 
row, and she joined the other two girls in telling him 
about it. 

“Well, that is nifty!” Dirk said. “We’ll have a 
great time ; not better than when we ride with father 
that way, though ! The prince is a nice chap. He’s a 
little like Bob Leonard. Wish he could go, too 1 ” 

Alys laughed, but Natalie colored and said spiritedly : 
“ I think Mr. Leonard is something like the prince, too. 
They’re both so real, not thinking of themselves at all. 
I believe Mr. Leonard’s more like a prince than the 
prince is.” 

“ So are you — like a real sort, I mean,” approved 
Dirk warmly. 


THE EIDE DOWN THE QUIET EOAD 297 


“ Well, if I’m going to make fudge ” Beth sug. 

gested and departed on her own implication that it 
was time she was off. 

Mrs. Hodgman was not merely willing to have Beth 
at work in her rooms: she welcomed her coming. 
Beth instinctively felt that the housekeeper had a sor- 
rowful life-story lying behind her present. Kind as 
Aunt Alida was, the little girl suspected that Mrs. 
Hodgman was often lonely in a position that made her 
one with neither servants nor employer. To suspect a 
heartache and to try to relieve it were one with sweet 
Beth. Mrs. Hodgman had grown to love her dearly 
for the sunshine Beth did not forget to bring to her by 
frequent visits as she sat alone. 

Beth triumphantly made her fudge, beating it so long 
that she risked being late to dinner, but, as she ex- 
plained to Mrs. Hodgman, “ princely fudge must be the 
best ever.” It was. Aunt Alida gave her a captivating 
box for it and Beth went to bed early, to be ready and 
fresh for the Event. 

Natalie, Alys and Beth were waiting in their riding 
habits before half-past ten, trying not to fume and fuss 
that it was but half-past ten. The horses were waiting ' 
in the courtyard fifteen minutes ahead of time, Tim 
in charge. He was to ride with the party. 

Beth slipped down and tied a bow of wide satin rib- 
bon on Trump’s bridle, on the head strap. It stood up 
between his ears precisely like a wide bow on the top 
of a small girl’s head ; the effect intoxicated Beth. She 
kissed her pony frantically. 


298 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“ I put it there in honor of the prince — red, for the 
English flag, you know,” she explained to Tim. “ But 
isn’t it just wildly becoming to him ? ” 

Sure, a green bow would be the right one. Miss 
Beth,” said Tim, with his twinkle. “ Trump’s for 
Home Rule and the lovely green isle, an’ it’s none of 
the English red he’d be w earin’, give him his choice in 
the matter : St. Patrick’s day just past, more by token.” 

“ Oh, weU, I suppose what he really likes is the red, 
white and blue, but I know he is glad to honor the 
prince’s flag to-day,” retorted Beth, tearing herself 
away from the pony, who cocked his eye after her 
under his bang and big red bow in a manner that made 
going difficult. 

The prince was punctual to the minute. He was 
riding a noble English hunting horse, lent him by one of 
his American friends, and he sat him with the strength 
and grace that is the perfection of horsemanship. 

At the last moment Alys and Beth felt embarrassed 
to go down to greet their royal escort and hung back. 
But Natalie and Dirk led the way with quiet confi- 
dence, Dirk because he felt no shyness, taking the 
prince for granted, as he took Mr. Leonard ; Natalie, 
because she was endowed with so much of her mother’s 
instinctive tact that her one thought was to set the 
prince at ease with them, the young Americans, to 
whom he had undertaken to be kind. 

The prince sprang from his horse and stood bare- 
headed, waiting, when the door opened and Mrs. Cort- 
landt came out, followed by her four young people. 


THE HIDE DOWK THE QUIET ROAD 299 


“ Quite ready ? That’s right,” cried the prince, after 
he had greeted Mrs. Cortlandt. “We must be off im- 
mediately, then. Ah, what noble horses ! ” he added. 
“ That Kentucky type cannot be surpassed under saddle. 
And the little beggar from the Shetland isles ! Kow, 
could that belong to Judith Shakespeare ? ” 

His merry smile set Beth at ease completely. She 
shook her head hard. 

“ That’s Trump ; he belongs to Beth Bristead,” she 
said. 

“ Let Beth Bristead mount him, then, and off we go ! 
Let me give you a hand. Miss Katalie, Miss Alys and 
Beth Bristead.” 

The prince held his hand for Natalie’s foot and 
swung her into the saddle, then Alys. But Beth gave 
her hands to Tim and was jumped into the saddle and 
sat laughing on Trump when the prince was ready to 
do her like service. 

“ This red bow is for the English flag,” Beth ex- 
plained, touching the end of Trump’s flaring decora- 
tion, with much of its color leaping into her cheeks. 

“My word!” The prince laughed, swinging into 
his own saddle. “ Indeed I’m flattered ! I wish I had 
thought to tie red, white and blue on this chap of mine, 
but I’m stupid. Will your brother Dick — Dirk — 
precede, to guide us ? Let us take a country road, if 
it does not need too long to get on one from your nar- 
row city, which seems to be spreading out over the 
country, northward, like jam on a long stick of Italian 
bread.” 


300 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“ Oh, isn’t that just what it does ! ” cried Natalie 
appreciatively. She and Beth rode with the prince, 
Alys and Dirk preceded them, Tim in the rear. 

“We were going to take you on what we call the 
Quiet Road. There is a piece of good woods still 
standing about seven miles out; we love it, sir — 

prince- ” Natalie stammered at the end of her 

sentence, not knowing what was the proper form of ad- 
dress for a young girl like her to use toward a royal 
personage. 

“ The Quiet Road sounds like the very thing,” ap- 
proved the prince. “ And we are all comrades of the 
road to-day. Formality must be laid aside. I shall 
call you all by your first names : I’ve got them right ? 
Natalie, Alys, Beth and Dirk ? I thought so. I have 
quite a lot of names, six Christian names, besides a few 
family ones. It isn’t just the thing, I suppose, for 
young people to call an old gentleman, twenty-seven 
years old, by an unset first name, so to speak. So, as I 
am one of the United States’ English cousins, perhaps 
you would better call me Cousin Hal. My mother 
called me Hal, when I was a small chap. Henry is one 
of my names, you know. Do you agree ? ” 

“ If — if you say it is respectful,” said Natalie, look- 
ing so lovely as she blushed that the prince’s eyes re- 
flected it. 

“ Couldn’t we make believe that you are Prince Hal 
— you are, of course — I mean the old one, and that we 
are riding back after the battle of Agincourt ? ” asked 
Beth. 


THE EIDE DOWN THE QUIET EOAD 301 


“ Such a child for history and for playing at it ! ” ex- 
claimed “ Cousin Hal.” “ Surely, if you like. Just you 
wait till I get home and crush my nieces and nephews, 
telling them of the little American who knows English 
history so well and never loses a chance to bring it to 
life ! I’ll shame them, the scamps ! ” 

“ Would you tell us about them — Cousin Hal ? ” 
Natalie’s voice trembled, but she bravely brought out 
the alarming name. 

“ Bravo, pretty Natalie ! ” cried “ Cousin Hal.” “ What 
a jolly morning we’re having ! There’s nothing like a 
young party like this, on horseback ! I’ll tell you all I 
can about the children at home ; they’re nice children.” 

Whereupon the prince began to tell them of “ the 
children at home.” As he talked he showed them a 
portrait of a merry, sensible, well-trained group of 
youngsters, brave, dutiful, but full of human nature. 
His listeners almost forgot, after a while, that the boy 
so like Dirk in his traits was the heir to the throne. 
Alys and Dirk fell back to hear the story. It was plain 
to be seen that this prince was a fond uncle and that he 
liked nothing better than frolics with the king’s chil- 
dren, his nieces and nephews. 

It was a beautiful morning, late in March. The air 
was full of the damp warmth of open ground ; the 
odors of earth and flowing sap were upon its gentle 
movement. As the horsemen rode out “ the Quiet 
Eoad ” bluebirds, robins, song sparrows, pee wees, the 
chorusing blackbirds uttered delicious notes from low 
growths along the stone rows. 


302 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


“ We turn in here, Cousin Hal,” said Natalie, in- 
dicating with her stock a road that looked like a lane, 
leading nowhere. “ Perhaps it isn’t too damp to sit on 
a log for a little while. Mama had a tiny luncheon 
put up, mostly for the fun of eating it out-of-doors. 
Tim has it in a hamper on the front of his saddle.” 

“ Now I call that downright good news and most 
kind of Mrs. Cortlandt ! She must be as good as she is 
beautiful, as the story-books say, and that is a strong 
statement in her case, for she is wonderfully handsome. 
I, for one, am a bit keen set ; how about you, Dirk ? ” 
cried the prince, slapping his riding boot boyishly. 

“I’m always hungry, pretty much. It’s this way; 
When you’re riding you could eat a bite every time the 
horse puts a hoof down, but you can just as well let it go 
till you’re back, because nothing fills you up, anyway,” 
said Dirk, so seriously that they all laughed. 

It was a pretty little glade to which the children 
conducted their older comrade. Here they tethered 
the horses and found for themselves two or three logs 
of various lengths upon which it seemed prudent to sit ; 
they were sun-dried and time-cured and much of their 
bark had peeled away. 

“Now, Tim, my man, where’s that hamper we’ve 
heard about ? ” asked the prince. 

“ Here it is, sir,” said Tim, bringing it forward. 

It was a small hamper, necessarily, to be carried on a 
horse, but it was carefully packed, with great judg- 
ment, and its contents were exactly right and exactly 
enough to take the edge comfortably off a riding ap- 


THE EIDB DOWN THE QUIET EOAD 303 


petite and yet not spoil the meal that would be served 
on the riders’ return. Beth’s fudge was the dessert. 

“ How delicious ! ” cried “ Cousin Hal ” — he seemed 
like Cousin Hal now ! — taking a big bite out of the mid- 
dle of a sandwich of thin roast beef and crisp lettuce. 
‘‘ Isn’t it fine to get off like this and be allowed to eat 
without plates or forks, just as they ate in Eden? ” 

‘‘ Do you feel that way, too ? ” cried Beth, delighted 
to share an experience. “ I think if they would put 
people out in the woods and let them eat pieces of pie 
and things in their fingers, they’d never have to get 
tonics in bottles, nor doctors.” 

“ Beth, there spake wisdom ! ” “ Cousin Hal ” accepted 
a large triangle of fudge as he spoke and rolled up his 
eyes at the first bite in a way that sent Dirk heels over 
head in a somersault. “ Though truth compels me to 
state that meals under almost any circumstances do not 
come amiss with me.” He arose, brushing crumbs out 
of the folds of his trousers where they were tucked into 
his boots. “ I’m going to put that scamp of a Trump 
through a trick or so and teach him a new one. I’ve 
sugar in my pocket to reward him, if he gets the idea. 
My word, but that fine fudge makes one thirsty ! ” 

“ Oh, there’s a fine spring here. To think we for- 
got it ! ” cried Beth. “ Dirk and Tim will fetch water.” 

“ Not they, not without me ! ” cried “ Cousin Hal.” 
“ Isn’t this a free day in which I’m not to be shown 
deference ? Take me with you, Dirk, Tim. I shall 
drink from the spring with this cup ! ” He held up his 
palms together, made hollow. 


304 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


When the spring had quenched the thirst of them all 
the prince put Trump through his brief repertory of 
accomplishments. Then he taught him to “ waltz.” 
It was not a precise waltz, to be sure, but as the prince 
danced in spiral curves, softly whistling a waltz, the 
pony, after a few failures, followed him remarkably. 
Beth was in ecstasy. 

“ I never, never saw anything so wonderful ! ” she 
cried. “Isn’t he clever? And how can you make 
him ? ” 

“ I have a sort of understanding with all horse-flesh,” 
said the prince, rewarding Trump with sugar and rub- 
bing his ears as the pony affectionately nuzzled him. 
“ In the regiment, my regiment, they get me to reason 
with a horse that is troublesome and he nearly always 
harkens to me.” 

“ Are you in the army ? ” asked Dirk with intense in- 
terest. 

“Yes, Dirk. You see, in a way, I was rather born 
to it. They made me an officer when I was a small 
lad. I had no choice but to do what was cut out for 
me — not that I don’t like it,” said the prince quietly. 
“ That brings me to what I wanted to say. This has 
been such a delightful morning, don’t you think, that I 
for one would like something lasting to come of it. I 
was turning over in my mind the night after the ball 
what I could do to prove to you how much I enjoyed 
meeting you up in the gallery and what friends we 
were. I thought of asking you to ride with me as the 
best thing I could devise, for it would cement our 


THE EIDE DOWN THE QUIET KOAD 305 

friendship by making us really well acquainted. Then, 
that wasn’t enough ; I wanted something more, to re- 
member the riding by. It would go on like an endless 
chain, at that rate, now wouldn’t it ? ” he paused to 
laugh. “But here it stops: not our friendship, but 
souvenirs of it — for a time, I mean. I really did not 
know what to suggest to myself to get, or to do, in 
memory of to-day. Then it flashed upon me. Like 
Archimedes, don’t you know, I sat up and cried Eureka ! 
What do you think I invented ? ” 

“ I don’t see how any one could possibly guess what 
you would think of, you think of everything wonder- 
ful and different,” cried Beth fervently, as the prince 
looked at her. 

She was burning with admiring affection for this 
friend who turned the every-day world into a tale of 
absorbing interest and who could also teach Trump to 
waltz. 

“Well, let me tell you ! ” cried the prince, one hand 
patting Beth’s shoulder in acknowledgment of her en- 
thusiasm. “ I decided to found an order ! Don’t you 
know ? Like the Order of the Golden Fleece, or our 
own Order of the Garter, with an insignia, a badge, 
don’t you know, and an object. What do you say to 
it?” 

“ Sure ; it’ll be fine ! Of course we don’t know any- 
thing about it yet, but it’ll be fine,” cried Dirk with the 
most flattering confidence. 

“ It would be fine to have an army like you, Dirk ; 
ready to follow wherever one leads ! ” laughed the 


306 


BETH’S WO^fDER- WINTER 


prince. “ My idea is something in the way of such a 
loyal army. You see lots of people never ask what 
they ought to do, but only what they want to do in 
this world. It leads to no end of mischief. Some- 
times two people want to do exactly opposite things, 
two people, I mean, who stand in such relation to each 
other that whatever one does makes the other happy 
or wretched, blessed or ruined, according to which 
course the first one takes. No one is free in this world ; 
we’re all tied and bound together by all sorts of fine 
lines and there is no greater nonsense talked than to say 
that any of us is free to go on as he pleases, regardless 
of others, or of the obligations of his position in society 
and toward his country. It’s my idea that happiness 
can come to each of us and to the world only when 
people stop to think, if there’s a question to decide, not 
what is pleasant, but what is right ; not what they want^ 
but what they ought to do. So I should like to found 
a little order over here in the United States of five 
members, Natalie, Alys, Dirk, Beth and myself, to be 
called the Order of the Strong Hearted. The mem- 
bers pledge themselves to aim to do their duty every 
time, regardless of whether it is hard or easy, and not 
to talk about it, nor make a fuss, but to do it, as be- 
comes the strong of heart. And here is our insignia, if 
you approve it.” 

The prince, looking fiushed by his own earnestness 
and embarrassed in setting forth what, after all, was a 
high ideal, told in simple words, produced from his 
pocket four small boxes. Opening them he displayed 



The Prince Slipped a King Lpon Each Hand. 






^ V' . ■ 





'i’*'" 'V 



k(‘_ ^ ■•> 'i * V . -~i ' ??•’’_ '* 

^ -T -s***’” 1^ *n '' * *-^ ~Wiw ^ 

I- ,n , «a J 






THE EIDE DOWN THE QUIET EOAD 307 

four rings, curiously wrought, of a beautiful design, 
each one set with a dark oriental sapphire, cut oblong. 

“ Oh ! ” gasped the four children, too delighted and 
impressed to say more. 

“ I had the rings made,” explained the prince. “ The 
sapphire represents the true blue of loyalty and love. 
The carving — see the design? Links, twisted and in- 
tertwisted to signify that no one stands alone. The 
rings are suited now to your fourth fingers, I’m sure, 
so, as your hands grow, they will come to be right for 
the smallest finger, where they will really look best. 
Will you let me confer upon you the Order of the 
Strong Hearted and invest you with its insignia ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Natalie and Beth together. 

One by one they came in turn to the prince and he 
slipped a ring upon each hand, saying : “ I invest you 
with the Order of the Strong Hearted. When the 
hour comes for choice, you are to choose the right, your 
life long, doing your duty bravely, as becomes the 
Strong of Heart.” 

It was almost a solemn little ceremony. It was a 
royal right to found an order and to invest its members 
with its insignia. Beth felt uplifted, awed, but pro- 
foundly happy. This was not making believe, yet it 
held all the charm of the best making believe, combined 
with realit}^'. 

“ Now, shall we ride back again ? ” suggested the 
prince. “ It is the worst of pleasant things that they 
must end, but, on the other hand, it is the best of un- 
pleasant things, and so we come to an average good.” 


308 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


They rode back rapidly. Once more the prince, who, 
as he told them of his new Order, seemed every inch a 
prince, was once more “ Cousin Hal,” the merry, boyish 
comrade of the day. 

They reached home in good time, but the prince bade 
them farewell at the door. 

“ I can’t possibly come in, thank you, Mrs. Cortlandt. 
I assure you it would be a great pleasure to me, but I 
fear I am already late to an engagement to lunch. 
Good-bye, my dear little cousins. Some day you will 
visit me in England. It is not good-bye for always, 
you know ! ” 

He stood bareheaded under the porte-cochere and 
took both hands of each of the Cortlandts and Beth in 
a hearty farewell clasp. He held Beth’s hands for a 
moment longer than the others. Then he stooped and 
kissed her cool cheek. 

“Good-bye, dear little Beth,” he said. “You are a 
sweet, old-fashioned little girl and I hope you will be a 
happy woman, as I know you will be a good and charm- 
ing one.” 

Then he sprang upon his beautiful horse and was 
gone. Beth walked into the house in a dazed way, 
turning the ring upon her finger. 

“ He was a king’s son,” she said. “ If it weren’t for 
this ring I could not believe it had all happened ! He 
is the best, the splehdidest, and he is gone ! Oh, why 
do people have to come, like falling stars, right out of 
nothing and then go away into it ? ” Tears stood in 
her eyes. Aunt Alida kissed them away. 


THE EIDE DOWN THE QUIET ROAD 309 

‘‘ It was a beautiful little adventure, dearest,” she 
said. “ Natalie has told me of the Order of the Strong 
Hearted. The prince has done a really lovely thing in 
establishing it. You cannot know now how far-reach- 
ing it may be in its consequences on your life and 
character. I am profoundly grateful to him, and I 
think he is, in the highest sense, a nobleman.” 

Three days later the paper announced that the prince 
had sailed. But he had left behind him rings upon 
four growing hands and a deep impression, a noble 
ideal, in four impressionable, unfolding hearts. 


CHAPTER XYIII 


“FLORIDA PASQUA” 

E astertide brought with it weather that might 
have been called unseasonable warmth but that 
almost any sort of weather is seasonable in the spring 
of the Eastern states. 

Suddenly Hew York seemed to bloom. Hot only 
were the parks and squares gorgeous with flaunting 
tulips, but the shop windows were equally gay with 
flowers, living and artiflcial, and with hats and gowns 
that vied with them. These last were repeated in the 
streets, worn by springlike maidens and bright- faced 
women. For that matter the blossoming plants were 
offered for sale on the curbstones in places, or went 
nodding along, enjoying their drive in vendors’ carts, 
through the narrow streets of which Beth caught 
glimpses in her own drives with her uncle, northward, 
into Westchester County, whither the car took them 
often since it had grown so warm, and where she rode 
Trump on rarer occasions. 

“ Isn’t it happy ! ” cried Beth. “ All of it, the whole 
of Hew York ! You wouldn’t think a big city could 
get so much spring into it. It’s so bright and flowery ! 
The country isn’t so bright now; fields look scrubby 
in March, but here — well, it’s just like Easter, all risen 
up after winter ! ” 


310 


‘'FLORIDA PASQUA 


311 


“ Your wonder-winter is over, Miss Beth,” said Anna 
Mary, who had knocked at Beth’s door with a message 
from Mrs. Cortlandt while Frieda was finishing Beth’s 
toilet for a drive. 

“A wonder-spring is even better!” cried Beth, 
nodding at Anna Mary in the glass. “ The reddest 
geranium would look like black crepe to me, if I 
weren’t going to stay right on. But the summer will 
be better than the winter, so I’m enjoying spring. 
Aunt Alida isn’t going herself, Anna Mary ? ” 

“ No, Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary. “ She’s sending 
me.” 

Beth ran down-stairs. The hall was filled with 
plants of small sizes which Mrs. Cortlandt was sending 
to the families whence Beth and Anna Mary had drawn 
the guests for the Christmas tree ; that tree seemed to 
have been long ago. 

At one side stood a small forest of bloom. Great 
azaleas in all their shades of soft reds, pinks and whites ; 
orchids, roses, lilies-of-the-valley, violets so large and 
sweet that they dominated the other fragrances, Easter 
lilies, spireas, ferns, all dressed in plaited tissue paper 
skirts, like unearthly ballet dancers, and tied with 
broad sashes of beautiful ribbons, each with a card 
pendant from its side. 

Cut flowers covered the hall table, chairs and the 
seat of the long carved Italian bench. They were 
partly revealing their loveliness through paraffine 
paper, like veiled Turkish brides, or they were thrust- 
ing long stems through the end of white boxes of 


312 


BETH'S WONDEE-WINTEE 


incredible length, to hint that on the other end of 
those stems was a rose of perfection. 

“ Dear me, Anna Mary, it seems as though I must 
be dead. You wouldn’t think there were such flowers, 
except in heaven, nor half so many ! Are we to take 
all these to the poor ? ” 

“ What a queer thing to say. Miss Beth ! ” cried 
Anna Mary. ‘‘ JN'o, indeed, then ! These on this side 
we take. Those over there are sent to your aunt ; 
don’t you. see they have cards on them? Mrs. Cort- 
landt has sent as many and more herself. They’re 
ordered at a big florist’s and left on Holy Saturday 
where they’re to go. ’Tis a nice way to wish your 
friends a good Easter, but thousands of dollars it costs 
— though it does seem wrong to be considerin’ cost 
along with Easter lilies and the like ! ” 

I should think you’d have to think what it costs 
just as much as you’d have to smell them ; it seems to 
come right up at you, just as strong,” said Beth, inhal- 
ing a lily as she spoke. 

She and Anna Mary got into the car and Leon, with 
the help of three maids, set the flower pots into the 
tonneau and piled the boxes of cut flowers on the seats 
which were unoccupied and around Leon’s feet. 

They drove slowly through the streets for fear of 
disturbing the potted plants. Other cars which they 
passed were similarly laden, though none to their de- 
gree. Mrs. Cortlandt liked to make sure that her 
gifts were properly delivered, so did not risk their go- 
ing astray in the tenements. 


“FLOEIDA PASQUA'^ 


313 


Once more Beth was moved to profound pity by the 
crowded poverty she saw. Sharp as had been the con- 
trast at Christmas between it and the holly-trimmed 
Christmas gaiety from which she had come, still sharper 
was the contrast now between the evil-smelling, con- 
gested tenements and the spacious hall in her uncle’s 
house, fragrant and lovely with the crowning successes 
of the master florists. 

“ Do you think the flowers will help any ? ” she asked 
Anna Mary wistfully. “ It seems as though they 
couldn’t know Christ had risen and what alleluia 
meant, in such places.” 

“ Sometimes they know better than in great houses, 
bless your dear heart. Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary. 
“ There do be people in such places that know so well 
that Christ lived on earth and left hope to them when 
He left it, that they’re almost glad to be poor, because 
He was. Sure, there’s no place so mean, or so crowded 
that there isn’t space enough to let in God Almighty ! 
And that’s a comfort to think of when we’re needin’ it. 
And any decent person craves comfortin’ thoughts 
when they see what misery there do be, and that at 
Eastertide.” 

Beth came home thoughtful from her beautiful er- 
rand. She had begged to be allowed to go with Anna 
Mary and her aunt had willingly consented. Neither 
of her girls could have been induced to go. Aunt Alida 
thpught that perhaps in little Beth there might develop 
the one who would best use the Cortlandt wealth, in the 
ways which she herself believed wealth must be used. 


314 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


She hoped that Beth’s unconscious goodness, her in- 
stinctive choice of the best, might, as time went on, 
bend Natalie and Alys into the unworldly women of 
the world which was Aunt Alida’s ideal of a woman of 
their class. She looked upon Beth as hers, as per- 
manently and almost as really as were her own chil- 
dren. She was daily thankful for the little girl who 
fitted so perfectly into the household life and needs, in 
spite of her differences from it. 

Sunday morning — Easter Sunday — dawned the 
brightest day of all that week of summer brightness. 

“ Get dressed early, Bethie,” Uncle Jim advised 
Beth at breakfast. “We must be well ahead of the 
service hour to get comfortably to our pew to-day. 
And here is your Easter card for the contribution box.” 
He handed Beth a crisp five dollar bill, of which he had 
provided four for the children. 

Beth took it with a smile of thanks. “ I suppose 
some day I should get used to it,” she said, without ex- 
plaining to what she referred. “ At home the children 
usually have a nickel, children who are properly brought 
up. Aunt Eebecca scorns pennies. She says it’s a 
queer thing that Christians call religion the greatest 
thing in the world and hunt out the smallest coin there 
is to support it.” 

Frieda had been to church early that morning, so 
had Anna Mary. Frieda told Beth about the pretty 
German Easter customs which her mother had described 
to her, following up her description with two or three 
lovely German Easter legends, so that not only the hour 


‘‘FLORIDA FASQUA’> 


315 


of dressing seemed short, but Beth was attuned to Easter 
anthems when the limousine was driven to the door and 
she took her place in it with her back to the driver. 

Aunt Alida in her silvery green with dark green 
plumes on her white hat and Killarney roses in the lace 
on her breast, Natalie in the dull blue that brunettes 
may wear, Alys in her pale golden brown, how lovely 
they looked, Beth thought admiringly watching them 
as they drove along. 

“ ’Cute, n’est ce pas ? ” whispered Alys as, in turn, 
they watched Beth. 

“ Perfectly darling face, so pretty and so dear ! ” re- 
turned Natalie warmly. 

Beth was totally unconscious of their approval as she 
happily watched the stream of carriages and cars slowly 
flowing up and down the avenue, and the crowds, 
gathering in density as they neared one of the great 
churches. 

Beth’s Easter gown was white ; the simplest of 
straight coats in a rough silk and wool, with just enough 
black velvet to set off its fine lines and texture. Her 
hat was soft and drooping white chip, with a scarf of 
white and gold and a single black plume. The costume 
brought out the childish pink and white of Beth’s skin, 
the blueness of her happy eyes, the pure gold of her 
hair, with the darkening of its future tint beginning to 
creep into it. 

“We must walk home to-day, Alida. It is necessary 
to show Beth the Easter parade,” said Uncle Jim. 

Aunt Alida laughed. “ Are you sure that isn’t an 


316 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


excuse, like the grandfather who takes the small boy to 
the circus ? I suspect you will like to see it yourself ; it 
is long since we were on the avenue as part of its dis- 
play,” she said. 

“ If it proves entertaining, that won’t be a misfortune. 
Come, Bethie, here we are, and you are the first one 
out, because you are so badly in the way ! ” said Uncle 
Jim, passing Beth when the car stopped before the door 
of the great stone church to which the Cortlandts came 
each Sunday morning. 

The sidewalk and approach to the church were 
massed with people, even on the side street upon which 
Leon had drawn up the car. On the Fifth Avenue side 
the crowds extended even into the road ; policemen 
were detailed there to prevent accidents. The side 
entrance was kept for pewholders ; through it the Cort- 
landt party slowly made its way, for here, too, progress 
was slow. 

Beth caught her breath as she entered the church. 
The air was heavy with the scent of flowers ; the beauty 
of the scene transported her. The light streamed 
dimly from the windows of many-colored glass ; its rays 
sought and were lost in the wilderness of flowers that 
turned the now-familiar building into a region of 
heavenly enchantment for Beth. Ferns and lance-like 
pandanus were massed against pillars, roses above them 
in swaying grace. Lilies formed a second rail within 
the altar railing ; everywhere roses and still more roses, 
and lilies and lilies ! Beth’s eyes dilated and swam 
with dewy joy. 


“FLOEIDA PASQUA’’ 


317 


“ Don’t you suppose, IS^atalie,” she asked, under cover 
of the slow progress to the pew, “ that when God spoke 
to Moses in the burning bush it was a rose-bush, burn- 
ing with its own red roses ? ” 

The service was wonderful to poetical Beth. From 
the time she arose to her feet at the distant sound of 
the choir singing and the white vested choristers wound 
in among the flowers, singing their alleluias, till the 
last faint echo of their final amen came from afar, as 
sweet and distinct, yet illusive, as the odor of one of 
the roses, Beth was unconscious of all the world; 
she knew only the world of unearthly beauty and 
ideals. 

They came out of church to the glorious strains of 
the Hallelujah chorus sung by the choir of the church, 
supplemented by men and women and a glorious or- 
chestra. Beth lingered so slowly along that the others 
far outstripped her, impeded though they all were by 
the throngs which had filled every available space in 
the church. Uncle Jim turned back to find her. He 
found her forgetful of all around her, slipped into a va- 
cant pew, drinking in the volume of glorious sound 
pouring over her as, from side to side, the voices 
tossed and repeated the Hallelujahs of Handel’s grand 
chorus. 

Uncle Jim tucked Beth’s hand into his arm and 
waited with her till it was sung. 

“ I don’t blame you, Bethie, for clinging to the last 
note of the Hallelujah chorus. Some day you must 
hear the whole oratorio from which it is taken — the 


318 


BETH’S WONDEE-WIOTEE 


oratorio of the Messiah. Now we must go, dear. It is 
all over,” he said. 

Uncle Jim brought Beth out into the flooding light 
of noon on an early spring day in the broad thorough- 
fare of bright New York. 

The little girl blinked ; she was returning, not merely 
to the strong sunshine, out of the dim church, but 
into the actual world from vague visions of angels and 
celestial glories. Yet the world around her was beauti- 
ful and wonderful, too, for the avenue was dense with 
people going slowly in two distinct streams up and 
down, north and south, on the outer and inner sides of 
the sidewalk. 

Uncle Jim skilfully steered his family into the de- 
scending line on the inner side, and Beth found herself 
part of “ the Easter parade.” 

Occasionally the Cortlandts passed some one whom 
they knew, but rarely. The crowd was made up of 
people from another world within the great city. There 
were sharp-faced, pert girls in the extreme of grotesque 
fashions ; many foreign faces ; families headed by 
women who looked like overgrown heads of cabbage 
decked out in flower petals, so blowsy were they, yet 
so gay in what they considered spring finery. Many 
of the faces bore the stamp of privation and a hard tus- 
sle to live ; they showed that there must have been 
self-denial in necessities to get together the money to 
buy the luxuries of Easter garments. The girls wore 
the highest heeled pumps, the thinnest of stockings, the 
narrowest of skirts, the closest of hats, with stiff est 


‘ ‘ PLOEID A P ASQU A > » 


319 


feathers extending out at the rear, as was the fashion 
of that spring. It was a caricature of style ; these girls 
who worked hard for their living were bound to prove 
that they knew “ the latest thing from Paris ” as well 
as their more fortunate sisters. But every one, how- 
ever tawdry her finery, wore a bunch of flowers on her 
jacket. Sometimes they were artificial flowers, but 
usually they were fragrant violets and roses, or long- 
stemmed carnations. Even the young men from the 
East Side had a blossom in their buttonholes and swag- 
gered along, to prove they were at ease in this famous 
avenue of wealth, with a bit of spring fragrance abloom 
upon them. 

“ ISTow I know why they called it flowering Easter ! ” 
said Beth, after she had walked in silence for two 
blocks, submitting to her uncle’s guidance and watch- 
ing the strange and famous parade of all sorts of peo- 
ple with eyes that half recognized its significance. 

“ Who called what flowering Easter, Bethie ? ” asked 
Uncle Jim. 

“ Florida. Don’t you know ? Ponce de Leon named 
it that because he discovered it on Easter. And his 
name for Easter — the Spanish called it, I mean — ‘ flow- 
ering Easter,’ Pasqua Florida. I guess that’s the way 
you pronounce it. I never knew why they called it 
that till to-day. I didn’t know there could be so many 
flowers all over everything and everybody. It seems 
as though Uew York was a greenhouse ! I feel like a 
humming-bird ; as if I’d had my beak in flowers till I 
could hardly breathe ! ” explained Beth. 


320 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


You’re a bird all right ! ” cried Dirk, who had 
stepped back to ask his father the time and so had 
heard Beth’s speech. 

“Easter Monday is a holiday from study. Miss 
Deland has gone for a three days’ visit in the country, 
as you know,” announced Mrs. Cortlandt when she bade 
Beth good-night. “ There is to be an egg hunt through 
the house to-morrow morning, and in the afternoon I 
may take you three girls shopping. It is time to get 
summer clothing under way. We go to Cortmeer about 
May tenth and the days between Easter and then seem 
to melt away each year so fast that there’s a scurry of 
preparations at the last, in spite of my resolutions every 
year to get ready early.” 

“ Aunt Alida, do you think I’m a little dreadful to 
be so glad I’m going with you to Cortmeer this sum- 
mer, instead of going home ? ” asked Beth. 

“ I think you would be quite dreadful and ungrateful 
if you weren’t,” said Aunt Alida decidedly. “ When we 
want you so much and it will be such a happy summer. 
It’s my opinion that you will never be ‘ at home,’ as you 
call it, long again, Bethie. We’ve no intention of let- 
ting you go.” 

“ It’s Aunt Rebecca that makes me feel wicked,” said 
Beth. “ She wouldn’t say she missed me, but she had 
me a long time and there’s no one else. Even a little 
girl around is better than no one.” 

“ It seems to me, Beth, that since your great-aunt 
has consented to your staying and it is settled, the only 
thing to do is to consider it settled and be happy in the 


'' FLOEIDA PASQUA 


321 


decision,” said Mrs. Cortlandt, kissing her good-night. 
“ Go to sleep and dream of the flowery Easter ; don’t 
meditate on your wickedness ! ” 

Beth laughed and ran away, ready to act upon this 
advice. 

The family breakfasted together Easter Monday 
morning. Aunt Alida said that the spring made itself 
felt most of all in a willingness to cut short the morn- 
ing nap. Colored eggs and eggs that held small 
trinkets, as well as candy eggs, had been hidden from 
one end of the great house to the other. The four 
young people were going on an egg hunt when break- 
fast was over. 

Kiggs brought in a heavy mail that morning, doubled 
by Easter greetings, arriving a little late. 

Mrs. Cortlandt received the bulk of it, but Beth had 
two letters for her share when they were distributed. 
She held up a card with flowers, a cross and a chicken 
skilfully combined in its design. “ From Janie,” she 
explained. 

“ That’s a card that is sure to sell, Beth,” said Uncle 
Jim gravely. “ It hits everybody on one or another 
side. There are flowers for the sentimental ; a chicken 
for the humorous ; a cross for the religious view of 
Easter. Perhaps your friend Janie is not sure what 
tastes you have developed this winter.” 

“ Here’s a letter from Miss Tappan,” said Beth, won- 
dering, and not paying attention to her uncle’s teasing. 
“ She never writes me.” 

She opened her letter, for her aunt had set the ex- 


322 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


ample of looking over the mail at breakfast by opening 
her own. 

Beth read hers with the color coming and going in 
her face and with a variety of expressions chasing 
one another, though everybody else was so interested 
in what had come in the mail that no one noticed 
Beth. 

Finally Natalie looked up from a note which she 
held, crying : 

“ Oh, Alys, listen to this ! Genevieve Haddon is 

going to have charades for the Poor Babies’ Fund 

Beth, what’s the matter ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s Aunt Eebecca ! I knew she wouldn’t 
tell ! ” cried Beth in a distressed voice. 

“ Tell what ? She isn’t dead ? ” exclaimed Natalie. 

“ How could she tell that ? ” said Alys. “ Is she 
sick, Beth ? ” 

“ Bad news, dear ? ” asked Aunt Alida, putting down 
the letter which she was reading. Uncle Jim, too, 
folded a large sheet of figures which he was examining 
and thrust it into his pocket. All eyes turned upon 
Beth, waiting her explanation. 

“ If I read it that will be the quickest ; it isn’t long,” 
said Beth tremulously. 

“ ‘ My dear Beth,’ ” Beth read. “ ‘ I have been think- 
ing of writing you for some time. It is not that I want 
to, but that I ought to. I do not wish to take other 
people’s business on my shoulders, but silence gives 
consent and if I am silent I shall give consent to a 


''FLORIDA PASQUA^’ 


323 


wrong. We are told in the Acts that Saul stood by 
and held the garments of those who stoned Stephen to 
death and so shared their guilt. Of course I feel that 
this lesson is for me, because I am a dressmaker, so 
have to do with garments. Besides, I opened to that 
chapter when I opened my Bible the other day to get 
guidance whether to write you or not. So I am writ- 
ing. 

“ ‘ Your Aunt Rebecca is not at all well. She is not 
sick, but it is my opinion that she is pining, and pining 
is unhealthy, if carried too far. She is lonely, but she 
would die before saying so. You know it would be 
exactly like her to die without saying anything about 
anything which she felt strongly. As long as you pre- 
fer the houses of the rich and great to your early 
home she will bear it as best she can. But she is not 
a young woman and hot weather is coming. If I 
were you, Elizabeth, 1 should feel it my duty to come 
back and cheer her up. As I said, pining is un- 
healthy, and it may be a very hot summer, which wears 
at best. 

‘"Do as you think best about returning, though you 
are too young to realize how a person can miss any one, 
or to decide important questions. Whatever you do, 
never let on to your great-aunt that I wrote ; she would 
kill me and never forgive me. 

" ' Hoping that you will see all that I could not make 
you see, I remain. 

Your true friend, 

“‘Lydia Tapp an. 


324 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


“‘P. S. — Your cat, Tabby, is well. She has a yel- 
low kitten. You asked to have it saved, if there was 
one, so your aunt kept it, though you don’t mean to 
come home.’ ” 

There was silence as Beth folded up her letter with 
hands that would tremble. She looked around the 
table, at the faces which she had learned to love so well, 
with trouble, but no tears in her gentle eyes. 

“ Oh, well,” said Uncle Jim, shaking off the impres- 
sion which the letter had made, in spite of its funny 
phrases and confused thought. “ After all your true 
friend, Lydia Tappan, says your great-aunt is not ill. 
We knew that she must miss you. You can write this 
person, who has to do with garments, that it is all set- 
tled that you are to stay with us.” 

Beth shook her head. “ I don’t see how I could. 
Uncle Jim,” she said. 

“ Oh, Bethie dear, I’m not sure that it is your duty 
to return, really, and not wholly selfishly ! ” cried Aunt 
Alida. This may be a friendly exaggeration of your 
Aunt Rebecca’s natural loneliness. As your uncle 
says. Miss Tappan states plainly that she is not ill.” 

“ Say, you don’t mean that you think of going ! ” 
cried Dirk, too disgusted to say more. 

“ You are not going and that settles it,” declared 
Alys. 

“You’re ours for keeps, Bethikins, so what’s the 
use ? ” added Natalie, disposing of the question once for 
aU. 


^‘FLOEIDA PASQUA^^ 


325 


Beth looked at them imploringly. “ I’ve got to go,” 
she said, and instantly Aunt Alida recognized the im- 
movable decision that lay behind the words and in 
Beth’s childish face. 

“Well, of all ” began Natalie. 

“You can’t go, Beth,” said Mr. Cortlandt at the 
same moment. 

Beth held up the hand that wore the prince’s ring, 
the insignia of the Order of the Strong Hearted. 

“ Don’t you remember what we are to do always ? ” 
she asked. “We have to choose what we ought to do, 
not what we want to do. He said that was the mean- 
ing of the Order ; we promised that when we joined it. 
I’m the first one who has had to choose anything much 
since the prince founded the Order. Wouldn’t it be 
awful if I failed ? And wouldn’t you go home, if any 
one had taken care of you for years and years, all your 
life, and was pining ? Even if you didn’t belong to an 
Order ? It’s dreadful to pine. A girl at home pined 
so when her mother died that she went into quick con- 
sumption and died too. Of course I must go home. 
I’ll write Miss Tappan not to tell Aunt Eebecca I’m 
coming; then I’ll surprise her. Probably that’ll do 
her more good. When can I go. Uncle Jim? You 
wouldn’t have to send Anna Mary to take me back, 
would you ? ” 

“Beth, Beth, do you want to go back? You seem 
impatient to start ! ” cried Natalie. 

Her mother gave her a quick glance, and Beth’s eyes 
filled with tears. 


326 


BETH’S WOi^DER- WINTER 


“ Oh, Natalie, don’t you know how beautiful I knew 
Cortmeer would be and the sea ? And — don’t I love 
you ? ” Beth cried. 

She did not say, loyal little soul that she was, that 
life in her old home was utterly different from the life 
of luxury and beauty surrounding her here. Beth 
would not have been a human child to have felt no 
pang in giving up her room, the perfect service, the 
drives in carriages and cars, all the delights which her 
uncle’s wealth poured upon her. Going back meant 
leaving fairy-land, in which Beth had dwelt blissfully 
all winter, for the real life of simplest realities which 
had been hers. And, as she said, she loved these new- 
found relatives with all her loving heart. 

Aunt Alida came to her rescue. “Do you know, 
Jim,” she said to her husband, who sat regarding Beth 
thoughtfully, without speaking, “ do you know that I 
think Beth is entirely right to go ? I want her very 
much ; she knows that, but I think she is right, in the 
highest kind of right, to choose to sacrifice herself for 
the one who has taken care of her all her life. And I 
know quite well that it is a hard sacrifice to make. 
But Beth would not be happy if she went to Cortmeer 
after this. We will help her to make the sacrifice ; not 
make it harder by our protests. We will pack her off 
in the Pullman car, and Trump in the express for small 
ponies, and send her on her way, if not precisely re- 
joicing, yet happy in the knowledge that she has done 
a hard thing and a dear, sweet sort of right thing, and 
that she is going to make an old lady very, very glad 


^'PLOBIDA PASQUA^> 


327 


by choosing her instead of us. For a time, though, 
Bethie ! Eemember you are coming back to us, and 
another time we shall try to arrange for no more 
partings ! ” 

Aunt Alida smiled at the little girl, with a warm 
light in her glorious dark eyes, and Beth smiled back 
at her bravely, in spite of the tears on her flushed 
cheeks. These two understood each other. Beth 
wondered how she should ever bear not seeing that 
beautiful face, how she should ever be able to wait to 
hear again that gracious voice, which had come to rep- 
resent to her the sweetest music in the world, the ex- 
pression of truest womanhood. 

“We’ll do better than you propose, Alida,” said 
Uncle Jim, while the Cortlandt children sat silent, 
aghast at this unexpected and adverse settlement of the 
discussion. “We will ship Trump, as you say, but we 
will take Beth back ourselves, in our big touring car, 
and leave her on Miss Bristead’s door-steps — like a 
foundling ! ” 

“ Oh, Uncle Jim ! ” cried Beth as usual. 

And so, swiftly, suddenly, it was settled. Beth 
was going back. Her Wonder-Winter was over and 
no Wonder-Summer was to follow it, this year, at least. 

It was hard, cruelly hard, yet, just as Aunt Alida 
had prophesied, already a song was singing in Beth’s 
heart that she had not failed of her obligations as one 
of the Order of the Strong of Heart. She had chosen, 
not what she wanted, but what was right. And poor 
old lonely, repressed Aunt Bebecca would be glad. 


CHAPTEE XIX 


THE WONDER- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 

H OW changed the house looked to Beth, now that 
it was settled that she was to leave it ! Only a 
short half year ago it looked unfamiliar, its grandeurs 
frightened her. Xow it seemed to her like home and 
the more than simple house of her former life came be- 
fore her memory like something utterly strange and 
barren. 

She went up the broad stairway between Natalie 
and Alys silently, slowly ; all three girls were trying 
not to cry. 

“ I suppose her mortal life seemed queer to a change- 
ling, too, when she first went back from fairy-land,” 
Beth said aloud, speaking out of her thoughts. 

“We’ll see you after awhile,” said Alys, as the three 
paused at Beth’s door. Her voice drooped downward 
through the short sentence and ended in melancholy. 

“ You wouldn’t have thought that Alys would have 
minded much,” said Beth to herself, as she closed the 
door of her room behind her. 

The fire burned low on the hearth, just a stick or 
two, charred in the middle, but still in form on the 
ends, left of Frieda’s early fire which had brightened 
328 


THE WONDEE- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 329 


the room in the early morning. Even when her first 
glimpse of this perfect chamber had struck her mute 
with admiration on her arrival, it had never looked to 
Beth so utterly delightful as it did that moment when 
she saw it with farewell to it in her heart. 

She crossed over and dropped down in her favorite 
low white willow rocker beside the hearth. She twisted 
around, laid her arms over its back, her face down on 
them and cried as hard, yet as relievingly as she could. 
A good thorough cry had to be gone through with, so 
it was well to get it over and done on the spot. 

Frieda came in and found Beth thus. She stood 
terror-stricken, waiting an explanation when Beth 
could give it. 

“Miss Beth, Miss Beth dear? Miss Beth, darling 
little Miss Beth ? ” she said questioningly. 

“ I’m going home, Frieda,” sobbed Beth, straighten- 
ing herself and futilely rolling a perfectly wet ball of 
handkerchief around in first one, then the other eye. 
“ I’ve had a letter from — from a neighbor at home, 
and she tells me my Aunt Rebecca is pining. She 
never would tell me herself, so I’m sure it’s true. 
Besides, Miss Tappan knows. Of course it would be 
dreadful to stay here — I mean at Cortmeer — having 
the loveliest time in the world, while poor Aunt Re- 
becca pined. Aunt Alida says so, too. So I’ve got to 
go — soon. I might have known a wonder-summer 
couldn’t come right after a wonder- win ter.” 

Frieda fetched a dry handkerchief from Beth’s 
drawer, practically expressing the sympathy no words 


330 


BETH’S WONDER- WIKTEK 


could convey, nor was it an accident that she offered 
Beth now her favorite handkerchief. 

“ Miss Beth, dearest, it’s awful ; that’s what it is. 
It’s awful for me, and Liebchen will be wild when she 
hears it. You’ve just crept right into everybody’s 
heart here. Miss Beth, and there won’t be a dry eye, 
from Tim in the stable to the smallest maid below 
stairs, when you start. But you’ll be back in the fall. 
They’ll never let you stay away. So try not to feel 
too bad. If you please, let me tell you that it’s fine 
and just like you to go because you think some one 
needs you.” Frieda smiled affectionately at Beth, with 
tears in her own eyes. 

Beth arose slowly, feeling better. “ That isn’t one 
bit finer than it is not to take some one’s silver spoons, 
Frieda,” she said. “It would be taking what didn’t 
belong to me if I took Cortmeer this summer and left 
Aunt Rebecca to pine — at her age, after bringing me 
up ! ” 

Anna Mary, in the doorway, exchanged smiles with 
Frieda at this speech. 

“ So it would. Miss Beth ; it’s right you are, but it’s 
something to be right ! ” she said. “ I just stopped in 
one minyute, bearin’ the news and bein’ downright 
sorry to hear it. But I’m thinkin’ it may be better for 
you than you think, spendin’ this summer back where 
I fetched you from ; a mixture won’t hurt you, little 
dear though you are ! Your cousins are cry in’ in their 
room. Sure, you must all cheer up ; summer does be 
swift passin’. Mrs. Cortlandt bade me say to you she 


THE WONDEK- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 331 

would like you to be ready to go slioppin’ in half an 
hour. She is goin’ to get your summer wardrobe, Miss 
Beth, and there’s no better thing to dry female tears, 
be they from young or old eyes, than a pretty frock or 
two. It beats all the wisdom of the ancients and the 
consolation of friends.” 

Beth laughed. Her sense of humor could not be 
dampened down long by crying. 

“ I don’t need a summer wardrobe at home, Anna 
Mary,” she said. “ Some cham brays and a dimity for 
afternoons, and a real simple, fine white frock for best 
— that’s all you need there.” 

“Well, Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary, “Mrs. Cort- 
landt is that sorry about losin’ you, and the disappoint- 
ment and all, that I’m thinkin’ she’ll have to buy a 
good deal more than that for you to console herself.” 

In the car, on the way to the shops, which were even 
more bewildering in their spring glories than when 
Beth had first seen them, Beth repeated to Aunt Alida 
her statement of the simplicity of her requirements in 
clothing for a summer in her old home. 

Aunt Alida smiled at her. “ I won’t be extravagant, 
Bethie; I’ll promise it ! You must let me get you a 
third of what you would have had at Cortmeer and 
that third is longer than your List,” she said. “ What 
about your little friend, Janie ? Is she the sort of 
child— rather are her people the sort of people who 
would be displeased if you brought her a few pretty 
summer concoctions to wear, so that you and she would 
be dressed in the same way this summer ? ” 


332 


BETH^S WONDEE-WINTEE 


“ Do you mean my little friend Janie, or my friend, 
Janie Little, Aunt Alida ? ” asked Beth with her merry 
twinkle returning. “ The Littles are nice. Aunt Alida ; 
they are not rich, but they are nice people, looked-up 
to, you know — about like us. Nobody is rich at home, 

but the Littles are among the nice people. They 

I don’t know. Nobody ever tried to give us dresses. 
Maybe Janie could have one — or two. I suppose 
jewelry is safer, but I’m sure I don’t know why.” 

When this shopping expedition was over Aunt Alida 
had chosen two delicate white frocks of the finest ma- 
terial and designs for Beth to give Janie. For Beth 
herself there were half a dozen white frocks, ten 
chambrays, some delicate mulls and organdies in colors, 
a hat for best, a shade hat that Beth thought still 
prettier, low shoes in russets, browns and black ; stock- 
ings, gloves, a parasol that awoke in Beth enthusiasm 
only just short of adoration, seeing which Aunt Alida 
added one like it, in another color, for Janie. 

“ Aunt Alida, you don’t know, you really don’t begin 
to know what Aunt Eebecca will say when she sees all 
these things for no one but just me ! It won’t be what 
she says in words ; it will be what she’ll say with her 
eyes and especially with her back ; turning it, you 
know ! ” cried Beth. “ And only think what there is 
in the house already that you’ve bought for me ! Why, 
I’ll never dare take back all the trunks these things 
will need ! ” 

“ I do not intend you to, Bethie,” said Aunt Alida. 
“ Your winter clothing will be put away in your ward- 


THE WONDEE-WINTEE MELTS IN SEEING 333 


robes till you get back. That will be six months from 
now ; in October, surely.” 

Beth began to feel cheered. Anna Mary’s wisdom 
was profound ; shopping, pretty clothes do work won- 
ders in drying feminine tears ! 

It was impossible not to look forward to the long 
drive in the big touring car which Beth had never 
seen ; it was resting for the winter. It was also im- 
possible not to feel some interest in the yellow kitten 
which she had so long wanted and which Miss Tappan 
said was waiting for her. And, though she regretted 
Natalie, Alys and Dirk, still more the dear uncle who 
had given her her first actual knowledge of what a 
father would have been like, and the beautiful and 
adorable Aunt Alida, who was a combination of mother 
and goddess to the little girl, still Janie was dear, and 
of course she loved Aunt Kebecca, and it would be 
nice to see the dull little shops, the quiet streets of 
home once more. So, like a healthy, natural little girl, 
Beth began to see streaks of sunshine through her 
clouds ; to enjoy amid her regret. 

“ I’m having the car made ready, Beth,” said Uncle 
Jim one night at dinner, ten days later. “I’ve been 
inquiring and I learn that the roads are pretty well 
settled on the route we shall travel, returning you. I 
have a directors’ meeting, which I can’t cut, on April 
twentieth. I must be back for that. What about the 
date for the trip, Alida? When shall we start for 
Massachusetts ? ” 

“ That’s for you to decide, Jim,” replied Aunt Alida. 


334 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


“ I’ve not made any positive engagements, thinking 
you might go soon. The first of the week ? ” 

“ I had Tuesday in mind,” said Uncle Jim. 

“Tuesday be it,” said Aunt Alida promptly. “We 
are all ready — at least we are all ready to get ready ! ” 
“ Now I know you’re reaUy going ! ” cried Dirk, his 
reddened cheeks betraying how ill he liked the knowl- 
edge. “ As long as there wasn’t a date, it didn’t seem 
true, but now — it does ! ” 

“ What shall we do to give you a good time before 
you go ? ” asked Natalie. “ This is Friday — do you 
want the Tanagers and Bluebirds and a little spread on 
Monday, or a dance that night, or — what would you 
like to do, Beth ? ” 

“ I wouldn’t like to do one single thing with any one 
outside this house, except Miss Deland and Mr. Leon- 
ard,” said Beth. “ I’d like to keep right close together, 
all of us, no one else, my last day.” Beth choked over 
these two final melancholy words. 

“Let’s have a house party!” cried Alys inspired. 
“ That means a party of the house, or it does this time. 
Let’s have ice-cream and cake in the music room, or 
the gym or somewhere and have a nice little send off 
of our own to-morrow afternoon. Shall we ? ” 

“ Have Beth’s Liebchen and Annunciata here, though ; 
they’re so especially Beth’s, and let Tim come and have 
all the servants in, make it like the English story- 
books, when all the retainers drink the young heir’s 
health 1 ” cried Natalie. 

“ Is that a go, mumsy ? ” asked Dirk. 


THE WONDER- WINTEE MELTS IN SPRING 335 


“ Isn’t it a sort of introduction to a go ? To Beth’s 
going ? ” suggested Mrs. Cortlandt. “ Surely I agree 
to the house party, if Beth likes it.” 

“ It will be very nice, if I don’t cry at it,” said Beth. 

“ Nobody cries when they’re going somewhere just 
for the summer, Beth, and that’s all the leave of 
absence from here we’ll give you,” said Uncle Jim. 

It was a queer party which gathered in the music 
room to bid Beth a formal farewell. Tim, Liebchen, 
Annunciata were the only guests from outside the 
house, unless Miss Deland and Mr. Leonard were 
counted outsiders, but, as Dirk said, “they were in- 
side so much it was about the same thing.” 

For the rest, all Aunt Alida’s servants were asked to 
“drink Beth’s health in ice-cream juice, if it melts,” 
Alys said. 

Tim arose and made a speech. “ Miss Beth, you dear 
child,” he began, and the audience shouted: “Hear, 
hear ! ” endorsing this estimate of Beth before he could 
get farther. “ It’s sorry we are to be seein’ the last of 
you, as the man said to the thrain he’d run himself 
purple to catch whin he saw it turnin’ the corner, 
beyant the station. Trump is startin’ this day week to 
go afther you an’ it’s envyin’ Trump we’ll all be whin 
he gets there, more by token that you’ll likely throw 
your two arrums around him an’ kiss him plenty, 
which is what no Shetland pony can appreciate fully. 
Take it all in all, Miss Beth, high an’ low in your 
uncle’s house, an’ more, maybe, in your uncle’s stable, 
have come to love the sweet face of you this winter, 


336 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTEE 


an’ it’s just walkin’ rolls of crepe we’d be didn’t we 
know you’d be here again next season. So we wish 
you good luck, Miss Beth, darlin’, an’ I’m thinkin’ 
there’s no better way to end a farewell speech than to 
say Godspeed, which is all wan with God bless you I ” 

This speech, which Tim ended with a bow that 
would have done credit to a dancing master, was ap- 
plauded to the echo. 

“ You have to reply, Bethie,” whispered Uncle Jim, 
pulling Beth to her feet with a whirl. She laughed, 
but looked frightened, although all the faces before her 
were familiar ones, which smiled at her with affection- 
ate looks. 

They saw a round-faced little girl, crimson with 
embarrassment, dark blue eyes dilated and excited, 
smiling, tremulous lips, fair hair flowing around her 
shoulders, snowy white floating frock making her look 
especially innocent and childish. It came to one or 
two present, notably to Aunt Alida and Anna Mary, 
that this child had come into her uncle’s household for 
more than her own sake and to spend a “ wonder- 
winter ” in the enjoyment of all that great wealth can 
give. 

She was a simple little girl, wholly unconscious and 
modest, but there was in her a quality, a nobility of 
mind and heart, which made those who loved Beth 
feel that it held the promise, the assurance of a future 
of important achievement. 

“ I can’t make a speech ; Tim’s speech was lovely,” 
said Beth in a little voice and they all applauded, choos- 


THE WOi^DER- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 337 


ing to consider this the opening of a speech. So Beth 
found herself launched, which was Uncle Jim’s inten- 
tion when he led the applause. 

“ I’ve had the nicest winter ever was,” Beth went on. 
“ It’s been just like a fairy story. It’s gone right on 
from glory to glory. I’ve had a wonder- win ter, in 
Wonderland. I’m fearfully, fearfully sorry I’ve got to 
go, but Aunt Alida and Uncle Jim are going to ask me 
again, they say, so maybe I’ll come back — if my great- 
aunt Rebecca can get along. Everybody has been so 
good to me, everybody ! I’m — I’m just as obliged as I 
can be. I hope everybody will keep well this summer 
and be here, if I do come back. And — and — I’m really 
ever so much obliged.” 

Beth broke down a little at the end of this first at- 
tempt at public speaking. The applause, as news- 
papers say, reporting political meetings, “ was tre- 
mendous.’’ 

Then every one in the room came up to Beth and 
made her a little gift ; every one, even to the cook, a 
forbidding man whom Beth did not know and the 
woman who helped him, whom she had never seen be- 
fore. Stories of Beth’s sweetness, her friendliness, her 
desire to make every one around her happy had stolen 
to the unknown parts of the house and to those who 
presided there, and all were sorry that the dear little 
girl was going away. 

Riggs was the greatest surprise of all. His solemnity 
seemed like a case, through which nothing could pene- 
trate. It was a pleasant shock to discover that Beth 


338 


BETH^S WONDEE-WINTEE 


had broken through this armor of respectability and 
won affection from the butler. Eiggs came with his 
farewell offering to Beth and presented it with a smile 
and real feeling. 

“ Hit’s a bit of ’awthorn from Stratford-on-Avon, 
miss,” Eiggs said. “ Hi thought you’d like something 
from Shakespeare’s ’ome. Hi’ve ’eard you talkin’ hin- 
terested hand hinterestingly hon readin’. Hi made bold 
to send hover to a member hof my hown family, ’oo 
keeps an hinn near Stratford-on-Avon, for this bit of 
’awthorn. Haccept hit. Miss Beth, hif you please, hin 
token hof my hadmiration hand respect.” 

Mr. Leonard gave Beth a tiny packet. “We’re like 
minded, Eiggs and I ; thought you’d like something with 
venerable associations, Beth! That’s a piece of the 
British man-of-war, Somerset. The ship Paul Eevere 
rowed under ‘ with muffled oar ’ when he was making 
for the Charlestown shore to arouse the Lexington men. 
The Somerset went to pieces on the Cape Cod shore a 
few years later and was uncovered long afterward. 
This little piece of black English oak was part of her. 
I thought you’d like it.” 

Beth lightly touched the dried hawthorn leaves, the 
square of oak, blackened by time. Her imagination 
was fired by the contact of her pink-tipped, twentieth 
century fingers with these objects which had been near 
such great deeds, such reverend associations. She 
could hardly bring herself back to thank Mr. Leonard 
and Eiggs. 

“ We’ll meet again, little Beth,” said Mr. Leonard. 


THE WONDER- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 339 


“ If I did not know that I should not know how to say 
good-bye.” 

“ You saved Dirk’s life,” said Beth. “.But I was 
fond of you before.” 

Which was a satisfactory good-bye, as Mr. Leonard’s 
eyes betrayed. 

Annunciata’s offering to Beth, made with tempestuous 
sobs, for Annunciata never felt anything by halves, was 
a pretty and gay striped apron, such as Italian peasants 
wear. 

“ It’s for curiousa-tee,” explained Annunciata, be- 
tween gasps. “ And for to remember your poor Nun- 
ciata, who will died, die, dead without to see you, 
loveliest ! ” 

“ Now, Beth, this is the most serious case of all ! ” 
whispered Natalie. “ It’s dreadful to kill the child in 
so many ways.” 

Liebchen was quiet ; she did not even cry, but she 
looked tragic as she bade Beth good-bye and presented 
her with wristlets of her own knitting. 

“ I’ll walk where you go, if you don’t come back,” 
she said. “ You got me cured to walk, and I’ll walk 
there, but I’U see you again.” 

Beth found this touching. She promised Liebchen 
faithfully that she would return. She then made “ her 
international relations peaceful,” as Uncle Jim said, by 
putting on the gay contadina’s apron and the wristlets, 
in spite of the delicacy of her white frock. Beth served 
her guests with cream and cake, Natalie played and so 
did Aunt Alida, and everybody sang. 


340 


BETH’S WONDEE-WINTER 


When Mr. Cortland t insisted upon it, Tim danced his 
Irish breakdown with the greatest humor and flexibility, 
ending with a toss in the air of an imaginary cap and a 
shout of “ Erin go bragh ” that sent Dirk into ecstasy. 

That night Aunt Alida and Uncle Jim had no en- 
gagement, for the household was to rise at the unusual 
hour of half-past six, for the travelers to be off before 
nine. 

Frieda dressed Beth for the last time, at least for a 
good while. It was a sober and dewy face that looked 
back at Beth from the glass, as she sat before it, having 
her hair braided tight for the drive, and behind her 
chair Frieda bent over her, braiding and dropping tears 
on the fair hair. 

Beth did not speak, neither did Frieda. Both under- 
stood that the little lady and her maid were too sad- 
dened by parting to speak of it. 

When her toilet was made, hair tucked away under 
the dearest little automobile bonnet that could be de- 
vised for such a face as Beth’s, a close little affair of 
white straw with a flat blue bow on its top and small 
pink rosebuds all around the inside of the edge, Frieda 
put on Beth a long coat of blue, gauntlet gloves, a 
white veil that was sure to flow out gracefully into 
everybody else’s face. 

Then Beth stood in the middle of her beloved room 
and let her eyes travel from one object to another in it, 
taking detailed farewell of its perfections. Such a 
beautiful room, so homelike, yet so elegant ! And she 
was giving it up ! Beth choked, but remembered that 


THE WONDEE-WINTEE MELTS IN SEEING 341 


Aunt Eebecca was pining. She turned to Frieda and 
threw her arms around her vehemently. 

“ Good-bye, good-bye, you dear, nice Frieda ! I’m 
sorry if I ever bothered you. You’ve been so nice I’ve 
even liked having a maid, though I’d never have be- 
lieved I could have borne it. Good-bye ! ” 

“ Good-bye, my darling little Miss Beth,” sobbed 
Frieda. “ You’ve never been anything like a bother 
to me ; just a pleasure to wait on you, it is. Come 
back, and don’t let any one else be your maid when you 
come.” 

“ Oh, mercy me, no ! ” cried Beth, hurrying away be- 
fore she should feel that she could not go from her room 
and Frieda. 

At the door stood the great touring car which Beth 
had never seen before. It was painted a dark mulberry 
color, to correspond with the Cortlandt livery. Leon 
Charette was in his place, ready to start. Beside him 
sat the footman who accompanied the coachmen when 
the horses were used, both in their mulberry coats, 
looking exceedingly correct. Anna Mary was still 
stowing away luggage and luncheon hampers in their 
places in the car. Alys made Beth get into it with her 
to be shown the thermos bottles, the mirror, the toilet 
case, all the appointments of this truly magnificent 
car. 

“ I thought all the stunning me was done,” said 
Beth. “ But this car is just as wonderful as the house.” 

She jumped out and ran back, for there was Miss 
Deland, smiling, with a book in her hand. “ I ordered 


342 BETH’S WO^fDEE-WINTER 

this for you, but it had not come yesterday, little Beth,” 
she said. 

Beth looked at it ; it was a beautiful copy of old Mal- 
lory’s “ Morte d’ Arthur.” 

“ Because you are such a little bundle of olden time 
romance,” smiled Miss Deland. “ Good-bye, little 
pupil, and don’t forget to love the teacher that never 
had a chance to teach you much ; you’ve been such a 
butterfly in New York this winter ! ” 

Aunt Alida wore brown ; her long coat, close bonnet 
and veil and gloves were almost one in color with her 
dark eyes and hair. 

Natalie wore invisible green, Alys a lighter shade, 
Dirk looked almost professional in Norfolk tweeds and 
goggles, a small but close imitation of his handsome 
father. Anna Mary was to be taken ; she looked just as 
she had w^hen she had come for Beth, a long, severe 
shiny figure in black. 

Mrs. Cortlandt and the three girls were to sit in the 
back ; Mr. Cortlandt, Dirk and Anna Mary were oc- 
cupants of the middle seats. 

Leon started the car ; it obeyed readily, and slowly 
rolled away. Beth looked back. There were dear 
Mrs. Hodgman, who had cried when she kissed Beth 
good-bye and said : “ Good-bye, little sunshine ! ” And 
there were Frieda, Miss Deland — and the house. Beth 
waved to them all, equally, and was gone ! 

It was a long drive to the small town where Aunt 
Kebecca lived, but Mr. Cortlandt was to take it easily. 
Beth found it thrilling to say : “ Now we are in New 


THE WONDER- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 343 


York State.” “Now we have crossed the Connecticut 
line.” It seemed a great thing to her to be an inter- 
state traveler ! 

The party stopped for the night at a good hotel and 
Beth keenly enjoyed the novelty. Never before had 
she been a guest in a hotel ; she had a sense of rapidly 
becoming a citizen of the great world. 

In the morning they took their places in the car again 
and rolled on, through country so beautiful that Beth 
could not contain herself. 

“New England is lovely, isn’t it. Uncle Jim ?” she 
said proudly. “ ‘ Land of the Pilgrims’ pride,’ you 
know. I’m proud of it, too. I can’t help being glad I 
was born here.” 

“I’m truly thankful that you were born somewhere, 
Bethikins,” returned Uncle Jim. “ It’s a fine old state, 
your Bay State. But ‘ breathes there a man with soul 
so dead,’ you know, Bethie ! You don’t ? ” he added, as 
Beth shook her head. “ ‘ Who never to himself hath 
said : This is my own, my native land,’ is the rest of 
the quotation — Scott. And that applies to a little girl. 
There’s a flavor in the air we first breathed that we 
‘ may search through the wide world is ne’er met with 
elsewhere.’ I seem to be dropping into poetry like Silas 
Wegg ! I’d better stop talking.” 

l^th chattered all the way, until they drew near to 
their destination. Then she became quiet and, as the 
approach to her town began to take on familiar aspects, 
to grow pale and tremulous. Her hand sought Aunt 
Alida’s, who held it fast. It surprised herself to find 


344 


BETH^S WONBEE-WIKTEB 


how much she wished to hold it fast, permanently : 
never to let little Beth slip away from her. 

It was a perfect April afternoon, warm, with open- 
ings in the warmth of spring coolness ; curious little 
draughts of cool air, followed by warm ones as they 
skirted woodlands. The sun lay on the earth with a 
warmth that was a summons to all the flowers. Beth 
knew that in a day or two she and Janie would gather 
violets in the south fleld, back of J anie’s house. 

The car rolled into the town, more properly a village, 
with its easy motion that had been so steady and rest- 
ful all through the journey. It attracted attention ; it 
was a more magnificent car than usually came that way 
and it was one of the first to come that season. Beth 
sat up straight, leaning forward ; by this time her left 
hand had sought Natalie’s, as her right had sought her 
aunt’s, and she was holding fast to them both, with 
a nervous clutch that betrayed her excitement. 

They passed people whom Beth knew, but they did 
not recognize her. Miss Tappan had kept the secret of 
her coming, so no one looked to see little Beth Bristead 
in the great tonneau, behind the impressive mulberry 
backs of the chauffeur and footman. Beth felt un- 
reasonably disappointed. It seemed dreadful to have 
Mrs. Damon, who sold them butter, and Mr. Kanney, 
who might be called Aunt Kebecca’s lifelong grocer, 
go by without a smile for the child who had so often 
been sent to them on errands. 

At last, guided by Beth, the car turned into a shady 
street, with houses on either side somewhat withdrawn 


THE WOKDER- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 345 


from it. It stopped at a brown house with a low gate- 
way. The footman jumped down and opened the door 
of the tonneau. 

“ I think you’d better go in alone, dear,” said Aunt 
Alida. “ Your great-aunt will be so surprised it is bet- 
ter for her to see you before we meet her.” 

But precaution was too late. Aunt Rebecca came 
out on the piazza, seeing the car at her gate. Beth 
sprang out of the tonneau at the sight of her, forget- 
ting everything but that this was coming home again 
and that was Aunt Rebecca, Aunt Rebecca, looking 
pale and considerably older, just as Miss Tappan had 
said. 

“ Aunt Rebecca, I’m here ! ” cried Beth, running up 
the walk. 

Aunt Rebecca’s hand went to her side. Then she 
descended a step and caught Beth to her in an embrace 
such as Beth had never before in all her life received 
from her. 

“ Beth, Beth, little Beth,” she said ; nothing more. 
But instantly Beth’s regrets at returning vanished com- 
pletely. Aunt Rebecca surely loved her and wanted 
her ; she must have been “ pining ” to speak, to clutch 
Beth like this. 

Miss Bristead was not the sort of person to allow 
emotion to master her. In an instant she had regained 
her self-control and went down to her gate to meet 
Mrs. Cortlandt and her husband and to urge them to 
come in. 

“We are going on to-night. Miss Bristead, thank 


346 


BETH’S WONDER- WINTER 


you,” said Aunt Alida. “ Mr. Cortlandt has an im- 
portant engagement that will force us to hasten back. 
We have returned Beth to you. It is with unspeakable 
reluctance. We want her dreadfully this summer, Miss 
Bristead ! I think it right to . tell you that we have 
begged Beth to stay with us, but all in vain. She has 
been resolutely determined to go to you. We are sorry 
enough, but — here she is ! ” 

Miss Bristead smiled. “ I think I need her more 
than you do, with these three fine children,” she said. 

Beth recognized in Aunt Rebecca a changed manner, 
a softening. Once she would not have complimented 
the young Cortlandts. 

“ Aren’t you going to come in. Aunt Alida ? ” cried 
Beth aghast. 

“ No, dear. It is better that we go immediately,” 
said Aunt Alida. She was wise enough to know that 
parting would thus be easier to Beth. 

“ Get in again, chicken, and kiss me as hard as you 
can, to make up for all the days that must pass before 
you kiss me again,” her uncle ordered her. 

Beth got in. For a few moments she was hugged 
breathless by first one then another of her Cortlandt 
relatives, and then they began all over again. Even 
Anna Mary kissed her over and over, and blessed her 
fervently. 

Then Uncle Jim got out and lifted Beth bodily from 
the car. He looked at Miss Bristead and smiled, then 
put Beth’s hands in hers, in token of his renunciation 
of her for a while. Then the great car moved, turned. 


THE WOKDER-WINTEE MELTS IN SPRING 347 


slowly started away, amid shouts of farewell and a sob 
or two from Natalie and Alys. It went down the 
quiet street, increasing its speed and, turning the 
corner, was lost to sight. 

Beth turned to the house, knowing that she must do 
something to keep from crying. She did not wish .to 
let Aunt Rebecca feel that she regretted being at home 
again. 

“ You made a sacrifice for me, child ; they are much 
more charming, high-bred people than I expected to 
see. They are very nice indeed, for New Yorkers. 
They could have given you a great deal we lack here, 
Beth. I appreciate your coming, but — I needed you ! ” 

“ I’m truly glad I came. Aunt Rebecca,” said Beth 
with perfect truth. 

Together they went into the house. It looked bare, 
queer. The china ornaments on the mantelpiece, the 
clock with Time and his scythe, once so familiar, had 
become not only strange to Beth, but grotesque. Noth- 
ing seemed real ; neither the life she had been living, 
nor this old life she had lived before. 

Ella Lowndes, who had been watching the arrival 
behind a drawn curtain, came to meet and hug Beth. 
Tabby came, too, her tail erect, her whole air revealing 
pride in the yellow kitten that gamboled behind her, 
trying to reach her proud tail. 

In a little while Janie came running, breathless, wild 
with joy. News travels fast in places like Aunt Re- 
becca’s village. Janie had heard that Beth Bristead 
was back. The little girls hugged each other in a 


348 


BETH’S WONDEE- WINTER 


transport of joy in meeting. However dear and beau- 
tiful Natalie was, Janie was Beth’s lifelong chum ; 
there really could be but one Janie ! Beth was so glad 
to see her that it made her forget the red table-cloth 
which had been distressing her in a vague way. Later 
Beth and Janie sat on the upper step in the April sun- 
set, their arms around each other, their heads leaned 
lovingly close. 

“ Tell me all about everything,” Janie ordered Beth. 

“ Not to-night ; I can’t. It seems so queer to be 
here, yet it doesn’t seem as if New York was true, one 
bit. I feel as though I had been dreaming,” Beth said. 

“ Beth, I don’t see how you ever, ever came back ! ” 
whispered Janie. “ Lydia Tappan told mama to-day 
that she had written you ; that was after we heard you 
had come, though.” 

“ I had to come. You see this ring ? That shows 
I’m not dreaming. A prince gave me that.” She 
nodded hard, in response to Janie’s amazed stare. 

“ Truly ; a real prince ! It’s for an Order. Natalie, 
Alys, Dirk and I belong. It’s the Order of the Strong 
Hearted. When we have to choose something, we’re 
vowed to choose what’s right, not what we want — un- 
less we happen to want the right. I had to choose to 
come back. But, oh, Janie, I’m awfully, dreadfully 
glad to see you ! ” 

“ Well, I guess I am ! ” echoed Janie. They hugged 
each other all over again. 

“ Sitting here like Java sparrows ? ” said Aunt Re- 
becca coming out. “Put this shawl around yon. I 


THE WONDEE- WINTER MELTS IN SPRING 349 


guess it’ll cover you both, sitting so close ! I declare, 
it doesn’t seem as though it could be you, Beth ! Your 
wonder- winter is over, as you called it. But I guess I 
could quote Shakespeare if I had a mind to ; ‘Now is 
the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by 
the son of York.’ Only it’s a little daughter! Are 
you really home again, Beth ? ” 

“Yes, Aunt Rebecca, I’m home again! I’m so glad 
you’re glad I came ! You are glad, aren’t you. Aunt 
Rebecca ? ” asked Beth. 

“Yes, Beth, I’m glad,” said Aunt Rebecca. “ I like 
to have you around.” 





• > 


FAMOUS STORIES FOR GIRLS 

By Charlotte M. Vaile 


The Orcutt Girls 

OR, ONE TERM AT THE ACADEMY. 316 pp. 

Sue Orcutt 

A SEQUEL TO “THE ORCUTT GIRLS.” 335 PP. 

These companion volumes are among the most 
popular books for girls which have ever been written 
concerning school life. In these books Mrs. Vaile 
depicts that old academic life which used to be so 
great a feature in the life of New England. Mrs. 
Vaile shows her intimate knowledge of the^ subject, 
and both books are full of incentive and inspiration. 

Wheat and Huckleberries 

OR, DR. NORTHMORE’S DAUGHTERS. 336 pp. 

Another story for girls with the true ring of genuine- 
ness, and as the two girls around whom the story cen- 
ters were born and brought up in the rich farm regions 
of the Middle West, and then spent their summers in 
the New England home of their grandfather, the author 
has been able to weave into her narrative the various 
peculiarities of both sections. 

Each volume is fully illustrated. Price, $1.50 


The M. yW. a 

A STORY OF THE GREAT ROCKIES. 232 pp. 

The experience of a New England girl in the Colorado 
mining camp. It shows ‘the pluck of the little school 
teacher in holding for her friend a promising mining 
claim which he had secured after years of misfortune 
in other ventures. 

Fully illustrated. Price, $i.oo 



The Girls’ Dollar Book Shelf 

The object of this series is to give a high grade, 
attractive and interesting series of hooks for girls 
on up-to-date subjects and at a popular price 

Each volume $1,00 net, postpaid $1.12 


“By Amy E. Blanchard 

Elizabeth, Betsy and Bess 

Miss Blanchard needs no introduction to girls. Her stories have 
been read for years and Elizabeth, Betsy and Bess are just such 
characters as every girl enjoys reading about. 284 pages 

Elizabeth, Betsy and Bess — 
Schoolmates 

This is the story of the school days of the three girl chums and 
shows the individual development of each one. Every chapter is 
full of the interesting experiences dear to the hearts of girls of this 
age. 336 pages 

By Grace Blanchard 

Phillida's Glad Year 

As the librarian of one of our largest libraries, Miss Grace Blanch- 
ard knows what girls like and in this new volume readers will 
And some of the faces with which they were familiar in “Phil’s 
Happy Girlhood.” It is full of interest from beginning to end and 
will appeal to every girl. 340 pages 


By Jean M. Thompson, Author of “Water Wonders” 

Three Bears of Porcupine Ridge. 
Wild Dwellers of Forest, Marsh 
and Lake 

A splendid animal book, beautifully illustrated and interesting 
from cover to cover. The reputation of the author as a writer of 
animal stories alone is proof of the value of this volume. 320 pages 

Trapped on Eagle Ledge. Wild 
Kindred of Fur, Feather and Fin 

This is the continuation of the author’s interesting animal and 
nature stories collected in THREE BEARS OF PORCUPINE 
RIDGE. 830 pages 

Price, Cloth, $1 .25 net each 














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